She Saw Him, She Said

‘Why, I saw you with the sexton, outside the church-door,
So I did not hurry me home,
Thinking you'd not be come,
Having something to him to say.—
Yes: 'twas you, Dear, though you seemed sad, heart-sore;
How fast you've got therefrom!’

‘I've not been out. I've watched the moon through the birch,
And heard the bell toll. Yes,
Like a passing soul in distress!’
‘—But no bell's tolled to-day?’ . . .
His face looked strange, like the face of him seen by the church,
And she sank to musefulness.
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