Page:Tristram of Lyonesse and other poems (IA tristramoflyonesswinrich).pdf/98

 So quailed his heart before the star whose light Put out the torches of his bridal night, So quailed and shrank with sense of faith’s keen star That burned as fire beheld by night afar Deep in the darkness of his dreams; for all The bride-house now seemed hung with heavier pall Than clothes the house of mourning. Yet at last, Soul-sick with trembling at the heart, he passed Into the sweet light of the maiden bower Where lay the lonely lily-featured flower That, lying within his hand to gather, yet Might not be gathered of it. Fierce regret And bitter loyalty strove hard at strife With amorous pity toward the tender wife That wife indeed might never be, to wear The very crown of wedlock; never bear Children, to watch and worship her white hair When time should change, with hand more soft than snow, The fashion of its glory; never know The loveliness of laughing love that lives On little lips of children: all that gives Glory and grace and reverence and delight To wedded woman by her bridal right, All praise and pride that flowers too fair to fall, Love that should give had stripped her of them all And left her bare for ever. So his thought Consumed him, as a fire within that wrought Visibly, ravening till its wrath were spent: So pale he stood, so bowed and passion-rent, Before the blithe-faced bride-folk, ere he went