Poetry
Tidings
INVISIBLE, the messenger
Came and whispered close to her.
None saw her lean and tremble near ; None saw the passing cloud of fear Across the sunshine of her speech.
Of what they murmured; each to each, None of the friends assembled round Heard or suspected any sound.
She did not even break the thread Of skilful words with which she led The weaving of that intercourse.
Yet through her lazy heart and brain Which in this social ease had lain Too long to bring her any rest, There rushed a tide that stormed her breast ; Tumultuous news came flooding whence The ocean of intelligence Roamed unfathomably deep
Around the scattered isles of sleep,
Reached the white continent of thought And round its broken bastions wrought Thunder !
She heard that music now : Leaned, listened with hand-shaded brow, Though wondering madly if she dare Kiss the salt-encrusted hair Of this traveller who came Whispering, to her secret shame, Pre-natal knowledge, with the sound Of that tidal rhythm bound, Bidding her womb grow reconciled To tidings of an unborn child.
RICHARD CHURCH.
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