SHE, I, AND THEY

I was sitting,

She was knitting,

And the portraits of our fore-folk hung around;

When there struck on us a sigh;

“Ah — what is that?” said I:

“Was it not you?” said she. “A sigh did sound.”

I had not breathed it,

Nor the night-wind heaved it,

And how it came to us we could not guess;

And we looked up at each face

Framed and glazed there in its place,

Still hearkening; but thenceforth was silentness.

Half in dreaming,

“Then its meaning,”

Said we, “must be surely this; that they repine

That we should be the last

Of stocks once unsurpassed,

And unable to keep up their sturdy line.”