Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/72

 "Thorn, thorn, I wis, And roses twain,
 * A red rose and a white,

Stoop in the blossom, bee, and kiss
 * A lonely child good-night.

"Swim fish, sing bird, And sigh again,
 * I that am lost am lone,

Bee in the blossom never stirred
 * Locks hid beneath a stone!" —

Her eye was of the azure fire
 * That hovers in wintry flame;

Her raiment wild and yellow as furze
 * That spouteth out the same;

And in her hand she bore no flower,
 * But on her head a wreath

Of faded flowers that did yet
 * Smell sweetly after death. . ..

Gloomy with night the listening walls
 * Are now that she is gone,

Albeit this solitary child
 * No longer seems alone.

Fast though her taper dwindles down,
 * Heavy and thick the tome,