A Celebration 
of Women Writers

"Anne Hathaway" by Ethna Carbery [aka Mrs. Seumus MacManus, Anna Johnston] (1866-1902)
From: The Four Winds of Eirinn: Poems by Ethna Carbery. (Anna MacManus.), Complete Edition, Edited by Seumas MacManus. Dublin, Ireland: M. H. Gill and Son, Ltd. 1906. pp. 118-119.

Editor: Mary Mark 
Ockerbloom

[Page 118] 

ANNE HATHAWAY.

Here did you stand, so shy and sweet,
   With face turned to the moss-grown way
That William trod with eager feet
   To you, at end of day.

Above you, tinted apple-blooms
   Showered their leaves across the lane,
And round you stole the soft perfumes
   Of flowers after rain–

Old cottage scents that rise at dusk
   From rosemary and jessamine,
The passionate warm breath of musk,
   And odorous woodbine.

The blush of girlhood is not yours,
   You are a woman grave and fair;
Yet in your eyes your youth endures,
   And in your sunset hair.

Across the fields at eventide
   With jaunty step, and smile elate,
He came and sought you, bluebell-eyed,
   Tryst-keeping at the gate.

And, "Sweetheart, hast thou waited long?"
   And, "Nay, love, but a little space:"
Then was it but the throstle's song,
   Or lovers face to face?

[Page 119] 

He lingered near you, all unchid,
   He prayed, as only lovers can;
He knew the worth your true heart hid,
   O fair, O happy Anne.

Dear! did you dream in days to come
   How great your lover's name would be?
How spell of his should wreathe your home
   With immortality?

How strangers by your hearth should sit
   And close their eyes, and seem to view,
Through vistas dim, your shadow flit,
   And William's shadow, too?

Or did you live those far-off years
   Love-sheltered,–holding home the best,
Haply, no envious, worldly fears
   Stirring your gentle breast?

O sweet dead woman! blessed above
   All women of those distant days;
Who knew the depth of Shakespeare's love,
   And merited his praise.

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Editor: Mary 
Mark Ockerbloom