Page:Early poems of William Morris.djvu/36



"Held out my long hand up against the blue, And, looking on the tenderly darken'd fingers. Thought that by rights one ought to see quite through,

"There, see you, where the soft still light yet lingers, Round by the edges; what should I have done, If this had joined with yellow spotted singers,

"And startling green drawn upward by the sun? But shouting, loosed out, see now! all my hair, And trancedly stood watching the west wind run

"With faintest half-heard breathing sound—why there I lose my head e'en now in doing this; But shortly listen—In that garden fair

"Came Launcelot walking; this is true, the kiss Wherewith we kissed in meeting that spring day, I scarce dare talk of the remember'd bliss,

"When both our mouths went wandering in one way, And aching sorely, met among the leaves; Our hands being left behind strained far away.

"Never within a yard of my bright sleeves Had Launcelot come before—and now, so nigh! After that day why is it Guenevere grieves?

"Nevertheless you, O Sir Gauwaine, lie. Whatever happened on through all those years, God knows I speak truth, saying that you lie.

"Being such a lady could I weep these tears If this were true? A great queen such as I Having sinn'd this way, straight her conscience sears;