Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/88

 As all her body were one heart on flame, Athrob with love and wonder and sweet shame. And when he spake there sounded in her ears As 'twere a song out of the graves of years Heard, and again forgotten, and again Remembered with a rapturous pulse of pain. But as the maiden mountain snow sublime Takes the first sense of April's trembling time Soft on a brow that burns not though it blush To feel the sunrise hardly half aflush, So took her soul the sense of change, nor thought That more than maiden love was more than nought. Her eyes went hardly after him, her cheek Grew scarce a goodlier flower to hear him speak, Her bright mouth no more trembled than a rose May for the least wind's breathless sake that blows Too soft to sue save for a sister's kiss, And if she sighed in sleep she knew not this. Yet in her heart hovered the thoughts of things Past, that with lighter or with heavier wings Beat round about her memory, till it burned With grief that brightened and with hope that yearned, Seeing him so great and sad, nor knowing what fate Had bowed and crowned a head so sad and great. Nor might she guess but little, first or last, Though all her heart so hung upon his past, Of what so bowed him for what sorrow's sake: For scarce of aught at any time he spake That from his own land oversea had sent His lordly life to barren banishment.