IX
My lips do need thy breath,
My lips do need thy smile,
And my pallid eyne, that light in thine
Which met the stars erewhile:
Yet go with light and life
If that thou lovest one
In all the earth who loveth thee
As truly as the sun.
Margret, Margret.
XIV
But better loveth he
Thy chaliced wine than thy chanted song,
And better both than thee,
Margret, Margret.
XVII
But better loveth she
Thy golden comb than thy gathered flowers,
And better both than thee,
Margret, Margret.
XXII
We brake no gold, a sign
Of stronger faith to be,
But I wear his last look in my soul,
Which said, I love but thee!
Margret, Margret.
XXVI
A knights bloodhound and he
The funeral watch did keep;
With a thought o the chase he stroked its face
As it howled to see him weep.
A fair child kissed the dead,
But shrank before its cold.
And alone yet proudly in his hall
Did stand a baron of old.
Margret, Margret.
