Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/16



O Love's low voice she lent a careless ear, Her hand within his rosy fingers lay, A chilling weight. She would not turn nor hear,
 * But with averted face went on her way;

His flow'ry wreaths beneath her heedless feet She crushed, nor cared to breathe his offerings sweet.

But when pale Death, all featureless and grim,
 * Lifted his bony hand, and beckoning

Held out his cypress branch, she followed him;
 * And Love was left forlorn and wondering

When she, who for his wooing would not stay, At Death's first whisper rose, and went away.