A Death-Day Recalled

Beeny did not quiver,

  Juliot grew not gray,

Thin Valency's river

  Held its wonted way.

Bos seemed not to utter

  Dimmest note of dirge,

Targan mouth a mutter

  To its creamy surge.

Yet though these, unheeding,

  Listless, passed the hour

Of her spirit's speeding,

  She had, in her flower,

Sought and loved the places --

  Much and often pined

For their lonely faces

  When in towns confined.

Why did not Valency

  In his purl deplore

One whose haunts were whence he

  Drew his limpid store?

Why did Bos not thunder

  Targan apprehend

Body and breath were sunder

  Of their former friend?