Page:Poems, now first collected, Stedman, 1897.djvu/35

THE CONSTANT HEART Where brightest starrs are closely sett

Farre out beyonde the voyd;

If Margaret be risen yet

Her looke will hither turne,

I knowe that she will heare it,

And all my trewe heart learne.

But if no resurrection

Unseale her dwellinge low,

If one so fayre must bide her there

Until the trumpe shall blowe,

Nathlesse shall Love outvie Despaire,

(Whilst constant heart is myne)

And, robbed of her perfection,

Be faithfull to her shrine.

At this blythe season bending

Ile whisper to the clodde,

To the chill grasse where shadowes passe

And leaflesse branches nodde;

There keepe my watche, and crye—Alas

That Love may not forget,

That Joye must have swifte ending

And Life be laggard yet!

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