The Story
of Saville
Could a man step out of his daily round and that passionate picture scan,
And not go forth to the greed and the grind a cleaner and better man?
Had she heard as she gazed the Spirits of Good singing their deathless song,
Had she felt it were better to starve and rot than swerve to the smallest wrong?
But Saville was mute; it seemed for a space as if she scarce could have heard,
She who was ever so prompt to utter a sparkling felicitous word,
And he guessed she was weeping, and soon she breathed in a tear-veiled tremulous tone,
“I only prayed: O God! Give back his vision and take my own!”
And Kyrle laughed out, ’twas so sweet to win compassion divine as this,
Laughed like a boy, and reached his arms over the viewless abyss,
And the black was cleft by a lightning stroke and their souls were fused in a kiss.
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