Page:A lover's tale (Tennyson, 1879).djvu/64

60 Of a gray steeple — thence at intervals A low bell tolling. All the pageantry, Save those six virgins which upheld the bier, Were stoled from head to foot in flowing black; One walk'd abreast with me, and veil'd his brow, And he was loud in weeping and in praise Of her, we follow'd: a strong sympathy Shook all my soul: I flung myself upon him In tears and cries: I told him all my love, How I had loved her from the first; whereat He shrank and howl'd, and from his brow drew back His hand to push me from him; and the face, The very face and form of Lionel Flash'd thro' my eyes into my innermost brain, And at his feet I seemed to faint and fall, To fall and die away. I could not rise Albeit I strove to follow. They past on, The lordly Phantasms! in their floating folds