CHARLES AND MARY

I hear their voices still: the stammering one

Struggling with some absurdity of jest;

Her quiet words that puzzle and protest

Against the latest outrage of his fun.

So wise, so simple — has she never guessed

That through his laughter, love and terror run?

For when her trouble came, and darkness pressed,

He smiled, and fought her madness with a pun.

Through all those years it was his task to keep

Her gentle heart serenely mystified.

If Fate's an artist, this should be his pride —

When, in that Christmas season, he lay dead,

She innocently looked. “I always said

That Charles is really handsome when asleep.”