Thomas Hardy — The Slow Nature

"Thy husband—poor, poor Heart!—is dead—        &nbsp Dead, out by Moreford Rise; A bull escaped the barton-shed,        &nbsp Gored him, and there he lies!" - "Ha, ha—go away! 'Tis a tale, methink,        &nbsp Thou joker Kit!" laughed she. "I've known thee many a year, Kit Twink,        &nbsp And ever hast thou fooled me!" - "But, Mistress Damon—I can swear        &nbsp Thy goodman John is dead! And soon th'lt hear their feet who bear        &nbsp His body to his bed." So unwontedly sad was the merry man's face -        &nbsp That face which had long deceived - That she gazed and gazed; and then could trace        &nbsp The truth there; and she believed. She laid a hand on the dresser-ledge,        &nbsp And scanned far Egdon-side; And stood; and you heard the wind-swept sedge        &nbsp And the rippling Froom; till she cried: "O my chamber's untidied, unmade my bed        &nbsp Though the day has begun to wear! 'What a slovenly hussif!' it will be said,        &nbsp When they all go up my stair!" She disappeared; and the joker stood        &nbsp Depressed by his neighbour's doom, And amazed that a wife struck to widowhood        &nbsp Thought first of her unkempt room. But a fortnight thence she could take no food,        &nbsp And she pined in a slow decay; While Kit soon lost his mournful mood        &nbsp And laughed in his ancient way.