Disturbed the wonted calm of Ronald’s brow,
Divined too well the cause of gloom that lowered,
And sat with speechless terror overpowered.
Her face was pale, so lately blithe and bland,
The stocking knitting-wire shook in her hand.
But Ronald and the guest resumed their thread
Of converse, still its theme that day of dread.
“Much,” said the veteran, “much as I bemoan
That deed, when half a hundred years have flown,
Still on one circumstance I can reflect