Her final Summer was it —
And yet We guessed it not —
If tenderer industriousness
Pervaded Her, We thought
A further force of life
Developed from within —
When Death lit all the shortness up
It made the hurry plain —
We wondered at our blindness
When nothing was to see
But Her Carrara Guide post —
At Our Stupidity —
When duller than our dullness
The Busy Darling lay —
So busy was she — finishing —
So leisurely — were We —