She thanked me for my wish;—but for my hope
It seemed[89] she did not thank me.
"I returned,
And took my rounds along this road again
When[90] on its sunny bank the primrose flower
Peeped forth, to give an earnest of the Spring.
I found her sad and drooping: she had learned
No tidings of her husband; if he lived,[91]
She knew not that he lived; if he were dead,
She knew not he was dead. She seemed the same