Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/119

 Your hands nailed love to the tree, You stript him, scourged him with rods, And drowned him deep in the sea That hides the dead and their gods.

And for all this, die will he not; There is no man sees him but I; You came and went and forgot; I hope he will some day die.