Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/176

 And its wings wandered over nought but sea. I would I knew she would not come to me, For surely she will come not: then should I, Once knowing I shall not look upon her, die. I knew not life could so long breathe such breath As I do. Nay, what grief were this, if death, The sole sure friend of whom the whole world saith He lies not, nor hath ever this been said, That death would heal not grief—if death were dead And all ways closed whence grief might pass with life!' Then softly spake his watching virgin wife Out of her heart, deep down below her breath: 'Fear not but death shall come—and after death Judgment.' And he that heard not answered her, Saying—'Ah, but one there was, if truth not err, For true men's trustful tongues have said it—one Whom these mine eyes knew living while the sun Looked yet upon him, and mine own ears heard The deep sweet sound once of his godlike word Who sleeps and dies not, but with soft live breath Takes always all the deep delight of death, Through love's gift of a woman: but for me Love's hand is not the hand of Nimue, Love's word no still smooth murmur of the dove, No kiss of peace for me the kiss of love. Nor, whatsoe'er thy life's love ever give, Dear, shall it ever bid me sleep or live; Nor from thy brows and lips and living breast As his from Nimue's shall my soul take rest; Not rest but unrest hath our long love given— Unrest on earth that wins not rest in heaven.