Page:Maryland, my Maryland, and other poems - Randall - 1908.pdf/61

 She kneels in a nook by the dusty choir,
 * With aspect lost and lornful;

My breast is gored with spears of fire
 * To see her looking so mournful—

Ah, ’tis not meet that one so sweet
 * Should ever be moody and mournful.

She tells, I wist, the beads on her wrist,
 * With a gentle, lyrical motion;

And she seems in a mist when the Eucharist
 * Is soared for the people’s devotion;

While a glittering crown for the head bowed down
 * Is the meed of her dear devotion.

Have you come in the guise of Paradise
 * Our heart-troth to dissever?

In tears, for the lonesome, bitter years,
 * Would you woo me back forever?

Oh, speak, love, speak what your sad eyes seek,
 * And win me back forever!

Both overthrown, we both have known
 * How the chains of mortality clank ill—

But tonight, tonight a vow we’ll plight,
 * To make our wild hearts tranquil;

While the flambeaux shine over thine and mine
 * Untroubled, untortured and tranquil.