Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/158

 Yea, he inside whose grasp all night Her fervent body leapt or lay, Stained with sharp kisses red and white, Found her a plague to spurn away.

I hid her in this wattled house, I served her water and poor bread. For joy to kiss between her brows Time upon time I was nigh dead.

Bread failed; we got but well-water And gathered grass with dropping seed. I had such joy of kissing her, I had small care to sleep or feed.

Sometimes when service made me glad The sharp tears leapt between my lids, Falling on her, such joy I had To do the service God forbids.

"I pray you let me be at peace, Get hence, make room for me to die." She said that: her poor lip would cease, Put up to mine, and turn to cry.

I said, "Bethink yourself how love Fared in us twain, what either did; Shall I unclothe my soul thereof? That I should do this, God forbid."