“Is this a dagger which I see before me, its handle toward my hand?
Come, let me clutch thee, I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.
What light is this which surrounds me and seems to set fire to my brain?
What whistle that, yelling so shrilly? Ah! I know now, ’tis the train.”
The woman then said, “Samanthy, I think it is time we was takin’ the train. I don’t think I could trust you to come here alone. Good day, marm, we must be goin’. I would like to send you some of my yarb tea. Its powerful soothin’ to the nerves.”
“Be that word our sign of parting,
Get thee back into the tempest and the night’s Plutonian shore;
Leave no black plume as a token of that he thy soul has spoken,
Leave my loneliness unbroken.”
By this time she had the door shut, but she went to some of the neighbors and asked if our place was not a private lunatic asylum.