DORA SIGERSON
later she met Clement Shorter at our little house in Mount Avenue, Ealing.
One thing I must not omit to mention—her passionate love of animals. In the old, good days in Dublin she used to pick up waifs and strays of forlorn doghood and take them to the Dogs' Home. The boys in the street used to shout derision at us: “Go on! wid yer grand hats and ye to be starvin' yer dog!” The sense of humour supported us.
How we laughed and lived together! Ah, well:
Let nothing disturb thee,
Let nothing affright thee.
All passes,
Only God remaineth
For ever and ever.
I will not speak of her beautiful poetry, essential poetry, always with a passionate emotion to give it wings. It is for the critic. No one will say she was not happy in her English life, though her heart was always slipping away like a grey bird to Ireland. She had a very full life and she had absolute devotion and knew what a precious thing she had.
Her breakdown in health was sudden. She attributed it herself to her intense and isolated suffering—isolated beyond the perfect sympathy of her devoted husband—
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