Sonnet from an Ungrafted Tree, XVII

Gazing upon him now, severe and dead, It seemed a curious thing that she had lain Beside him many a night in that cold bed, And that had been which would not be again. From his desirous body the great heat Was gone at last, it seemed, and the taut nerves Loosened forever. Formally the sheet Set forth for her to-day those heavy curves And lengths familiar as the bedroom door. She was as one that enters, sly, and proud, To where her husband speaks before a crowd, And sees a man she never saw before -- The man who eats his victuals at her side, Small, and absurd, and hers: for once, not hers, unclassified.