Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/95

 The singing men and women sang that night as usual, The dancers danced in pairs and sets, but music had a fall, A melancholy windy fall as at a funeral.

Amid the toss of torches to my chamber back we swept; My ladies loosed my golden chain; meantime I could have wept To think of some in galling chains whether they waked or slept.

I took my bath of scented milk, delicately waited on: They burned sweet things for my delight, cedar and cinnamon, They lit my shaded silver lamp, and left me there alone.

A day went by, a week went by. One day I heard it said: "Men are clamouring, women, children, clamouring to be fed; Men like famished dogs are howling in the streets for bread."

So two whispered by my door, not thinking I could hear, Vulgar naked truth, ungarnished for a royal ear; Fit for cooping in the background, not to stalk so near. 73