Page:Last Poems.djvu/90

 Ah, those days—they were lovely to me, When little and shy I waited for thee.

Till I locked my arms round my lover above, A child in form but a woman in love.

And I bore thy sons, as a woman should, Year by year, as is meet and good.

Thy mother was ever content with me— And Oh, Beloved, I worshipped thee!

And now it's over; alas, my lord, Better I felt thy sharpest sword.

I hear she is youthful and fair as I When I came to thee in the days gone by.

Her breasts are firmer; this bosom slips Somewhat, weighted by children's lips.

But they were thy children. Oh, lord my king, Ah, why hast thy heart devised this thing?

I am not as the women of this thy land, Meek and timid, broken to hand.

From the distant North I was given to thee, Whose daughters are passionate, fierce and free.

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