Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/46

Rh He sat him by the bright hearthside And turned towards the door; And there upon the threshold stood His lady, weeping sore.

He chased her down the winding stair And out into the night; But only found a withered crone, With long hair, loose and white.

“Come hither now, you sly-faced witch; Come hither now to me. Say, if a lady all so pale Your evil eyes did see?”

“Oh, true, I saw a little lass, She went all white as snow; She crossed my hand with silver crown Just two short hours ago.”

“What did you tell the foolish wench— Who must my lady be? The false tale you did tell to her You now must tell to me.”

“I hate you. Black Earl Roderick; You're cruel, hard, and cold; Yet shall you grieve like a young child Before the moon is old.

“This did I tell her: like a queen She'd ride into the town; And ev'ry man who met her there Would on his knees go down.

“I said that he who followed none Would walk behind her now. And in his trembling hands the helm From his uncovered brow.