Laughing and trembling in the bursts of tears,
Her ditch-filled boots both squelching in the tread,
Her shopping-bonnet sagging to her ears,
Her heart too dumb with brokenness for fears.
The nightmare whickering with the laugh of death
Could not have added terror to her breath.
She reached the house, and: 'I'm all right,' said she,
'I'll just take off my things; but I'm all right,
'I'd be all right with just a cup of tea,
If I could only get this grate to light,