Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/73

 And now, indeed, that he is dead, The nations have they no more dread? Lo, is not this the King they swore To worship evermore? Will no one Love of his come near And kiss him where he lieth there, And warm his freezing lips again? —Is this then all his reign?

He must have longed ere this to rise And be again in all men's eyes; For the place where he dwelleth now Lonely it is I trow: But, just to stand in his own hall And feel the warmth there once for all— O would he not give crowns of gold? For the place is so cold!

But over him a tomb doth stand, The costliest in all the land; And of the glory that he bore It telleth evermore.—