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,

X.

Margret, Margret.

Her cheek had waxed white Like cloud at fall of snow; Then like to one at set of sun, It waxed red alsò;

For love's name maketh bold,

As if the loved were near.

And then she sighed the deep long sigh

Which cometh after fear.

Margret, Margret.

XI.

'Now, sooth, I fear thee not

Shall never fear thee now!' (And a noble sight was the sudden light

Which lit her lifted brow.)

'Can earth be dry of streams? Or hearts, of love?' she said;

'Who doubteth love, can know not love;

He is already dead.'

Margret, Margret.

XII.

'I have'. . . and here her lips
Some word in pause did keep,
And gave the while a quiet smile,
As if they paused in sleep,-
'I have . . . a brother dear,
A knight of knightly fame!

I broidered him a knightly scarf
With letters of my name.

XIII.

Margret, Margret.

'I fed his grey goss hawk,

I kissed his fierce bloodhound,
I sate at home when he might come
And caught his horn's far sound.

I sang him hunter's songs,
I poured him the red wine-
He looked across the cup and said,

I love thee, sister mine.'

Margret, Margret.

XIV.

IT trembled on the grass,

With a low, shadowy laughter. The sounding river which rolled for ever, Stood dumb and stagnant after.

'Brave knight thy brother is!

But better loveth he

Thy chaliced wine than thy chanted song,

And better both, than thee,

Margret, Margret.'

XV.

The lady did not heed

The river's silence while

Her own thoughts still ran at their will,
And calm was still her smile.

'My little sister wears

The look our mother wore:

I smooth her locks with a golden comb,

I bless her evermore.'

XVI.

Margret, Margret.

gave her my first bird,

When first my voice it knew;
I made her share my posies rare,

And told her where they grew.
I taught her God's dear name
With prayer and praise, to tell—
She looked from heaven into my face,
And said, I love thee well.'

Margret, Margret.

XVII.

IT trembled on the grass

With a low, shadowy laughter.

You could see each bird as it woke and stared Through the shrivelled foliage after.

'Fair child thy sister is!

But better loveth she

Thy golden comb than thy gathered flowers,

And better both, than thee,

Margret, Margret.

XVIII.

Thy lady did not heed

The withering on the bough: Still calm her smile albeit the while

A little pale her brow.

'I have a father old,

The Lord of ancient halls.

An hundred friends are in his court.

Yet only me he calls.

Margret, Margret.

XIX.

'An hundred knights are in his court,

Yet read I by his knee;

And when forth they go to the tourney show,

I rise not up to see.

'Tis a weary book to read,

My tryst's at set of sun,

But loving and dear beneath the stars

Is his blessing when I've done.'

Margret, Margret.

XX.

IT trembled on the grass

With a low, shadowy laughter;

And moon and star though bright and far
Did shrink and darken after.

'High lord thy father is!

But better loveth he

His ancient halls than his hundred friends,

His ancient halls, than thee,

Margret, Margret.'

XXI.

The lady did not heed

That the far stars did fail:
Still calm her smile, albeit the while . . .

Nay, but she is not pale!

'I have a more than friend
Across the mountains dim:

No other's voice is soft to me,
Unless it nameth him.'

Margret, Margret.

XXII.

'Though louder beats mine heart

I know his tread again,

And his far plume aye, unless turned away, For the tears do blind me then.

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.

XXIII.

IT trembled on the grass

With a low, shadowy laughter; And the wind did toll, as a passing soul Were sped by church-bell after; And shadows, 'stead of light,

Fell from the stars above,

In flakes of darkness on her face

Still bright with trusting love.

Margret, Margret.