Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/179

Rh XXV

muse upon my lady's grace,

Nor dream upon her bounty, what may be

Largess or guerdon at the last to me,

Who serve far off and in a lowly place.

I was not fashioned of the suitor-race

Who give their labor and their hearts for fee;

No recompense of my fidelity

I meditate,—not even to see her face.

Only always invisible tenderness,

Hanging about me like a spiritual cloud,

Holds me obscure, and undivulged doth bless

My soul, and in this world doth strangely shroud;

Whereof the meaning I but faintly guess,

Save that it keeps me private in life's crowd.