Death claps us on the shoulder, and with knife
Or cord or fever flouts the prayer we pray—
‘Grudge us not life!’
“Madam, recall that in the sun we play
But for an hour, then have the worm for wife,
The tomb for habitation—and to-day
Grudge us not life!”
Candor in these matters is best. Katharine scrambled into the crotch of the apple-tree. The dew pattered sharply about her, but the Princess was not in a mood to appraise discomfort.
“You came!” this harper said, transfigured; and then again, “You came!”
She breathed, “Yes.”