Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/91

72 “Within the shadow of the tomb In one embrace to rest. My shoulder for his weary head. His babe upon my breast”

Now when the maiden all so pale This piteous tale did hear, She loosed her braids of nut-brown hair, And dropped full oft a tear.

“Now go you back, poor ghost,” said she, “And may your sleep be sound; And grieve you naught for any man Who walks the upper ground.

“And do not wake for any soul Who on this earth doth live; For if your dear doth grieve him sore You could not comfort give.

“For he doth weep the lone night through And all the weary day. Since I unto his suit am cold And to his love say nay!”