Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/28

Rh “If you will let his young soul go free, I will serve you true and well, For seven long years to be your slave In the bitterest place of hell.”

“Seven long years, if you be my slave, I will let his soul go free.” The stranger drew her then by the hand, And into the night went he.

Seven long years did she serve him true By the blazing gates of hell, And on every soul that entered in The tears of her sorrow fell.

Seven long years did she keep the place, To open the doors accurst, And every soul that her tear-drops knew — It would neither burn nor thirst.

And once she let in her father dear. And once passed her brother through, Once came a friend she had loved full well, Oh, bitter it was to do!

On the last day of the seven long years She stood by her master's knee — “A boon, a boon for the work well done I pray that you grant to me.

“A boon, a boon, that I carry forth What treasure my strength can bring.” “That you may do,” said the Evil One, “And all for a little thing.

“All you can carry you may take forth By serving me seven years more.” Bitter she wept for the world and love. But took her sad place by the door.