Listlessly. Lotta, I must have some rest.
The strain will be a hideous one to-day.
Dont speak to me at all. It will be best
If I am quiet till I go. And lest
She disobey, he left her. On the stairs
She heard his mounting steps. What use were prayers!
He could not hear, he was not there, for she
Was married to a mummy, a machine.
Her hand closed on the locket bitterly.
Before her, on a chair, lay the shagreen
Case of his violin. She saw the clean
Sun flash the open clasp. The lockets edge
Cut at her fingers like a pushing wedge.
A heavy cart went by, a distant bell
Chimed ten, the fire flickered in the grate.
She was alone. Her throat began to swell
With sobs. What kept her here, why should she wait?
The violin she had begun to hate
Lay in its case before her. Here she flung
The cover open. With the fiddle swung
Over her head, the hanging clocks loud ticking
Caught on her ear. Twas slow, and as she paused
The little door in it came open, flicking
A wooden cuckoo out: Cuckoo! It caused
The forest dream to come again. Cuckoo!
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