Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf/212

 Right little pain I felt, God wot, When that foul thief's mouth, found so sweet, Kissed me—Much good thereof I got! I keep the sin and the shame of it.

'And he died thirty year agone. I am old now, no sweet thing to see; By God, though, when I think thereon, And of that good glad time, woe's me, And stare upon my changed body Stark naked, that has been so sweet, Lean, wizen, like a small dry tree, I am nigh mad with the pain of it.

'Where is my faultless forehead's white, The lifted eyebrows, soft gold hair, Eyes wide apart and keen of sight, With subtle skill in the amorous air;