Revulsed emotion set her body shaking
As though she had an ague. Gervase swore,
Jumped to his feet in such a dreadful taking
His face was ghastly with the look it wore.
Crouching and slipping through the trees, a man
In worn, blue livery, a humpbacked thing,
Made off. But turned every few steps to gaze
At Eunice, and to fling
Vile looks and gestures back. “The ruffian!
By Christ's Death! I will split him to a span
Of hog's thongs.” She grasped at his sleeve, “Gervase!
Pickthorn Manor: 34
Amy Lowell
(1)
Poem topics: death, blue, face, emotion, split, gaze, body, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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