"For I have vassals leal and true,

And I have comrades kind,
And wheresoe'er my soul shall speed,
They will not stay behind."

He sought the brother young and blithe
Who bore his spear and shield:

"In the long chase you've followed me,
And in the battle-field.

"Few vows you make; but true's your heart,
And you with me will win."

He said: "God speed you, brother mine,
But I am next of kin."

He sought the friar, the gray old priest
Who loved his father's board.

The friar he turned him to the east
And reverently adored.

He said: "A godless name you bear,
A godless life you've led,
And whoso wins along with you,
His spirit shall have dread.

"Oh, hasten, get your guilty soul
From every burden shriven;
Yet you are bound for flame and dole,
But I am bound for heaven."

He sought the lady bright and proud,
Who sate at his right hand:
"Make haste, O Love, to follow me
Into the sunless land."

She said: "And pass you in your prime?
Heaven give me days of cheer!

And keep me from the sunless clime

Many and many a year."

All heavily the sun sank down
Among black clouds of fate.
There came a woman fair and wan
Unto the castle gate.

Through gazing vassals, idle serfs,
So silently she sped!

The winding staircase echoed not
Unto her light, light tread.

His lady eyed her scornfully.
She stood at his right hand;
She said: "And I will follow you
Into the sunless land.

"There is no expiation, none.

A bitter load I bore:

Now I shall love you nevermore,

Never and nevermore.

'There is no touch or tone of yours Can make the old love wake." She said: "But I will follow you, Even for the old love's sake."

Oh, he has kissed her on the brow,
He took her by the hand:
Into the sunless land they went,

Into the starless land.

May Kendall [1861

"O THAT 'TWERE POSSIBLE"

From "Maud"

O THAT 'twere possible

After long grief and pain
To find the arms of my true love
Round me once again!

"Home They Brought Her Warrior

When I was wont to meet her

In the silent moody places
Of the land that gave me birth,

We stood tranced in long embraces
Mixed with kisses sweeter, sweeter
Than anything on earth.

A shadow flits before me,

Not thou, but like to thee.

Ah, Christ, that it were possible

For one short hour to see

The souls we loved, that they might tell us

What and where they be!

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

"HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR

DEAD"

From "The Princess"

HOME they brought her warrior dead;
She nor swooned, nor uttered cry.

All her maidens, watching, said,
"She must weep or she will die.”

Then they praised him, soft and low,
Called him worthy to be loved,
Truest friend and noblest foe;

Yet she neither spoke nor moved.

Stole a maiden from her place,

Lightly to the warrior stepped,
Took the face-cloth from the face;
Yet she neither moved nor wept.

Rose a nurse of ninety years,

Set his child upon her knee,—

Like summer tempest came her tears,
"Sweet my child, I live for thee."

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

EVELYN HOPE

BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead!

Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed;

She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass.

Little has yet been changed, I think: The shutters are shut, no light may pass Save two long rays through the hinge's chink.

Sixteen years old when she died!

Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name;

It was not her time to love; beside,

Her life had many a hope and aim,

Duties enough and little cares,

And now was quiet, now astir,

Till God's hand beckoned unawares,—
And the sweet white brow is all of her.

Is it too late, then, Evelyn Hope?
What, your soul was pure and true,
The good stars met in your horoscope,
Made you of spirit, fire, and dew-
And, just because I was thrice as old,

And our paths in the world diverged so wide,

Each was naught to each, must I be told?
We were fellow mortals, naught beside?

No, indeed! for God above

Is great to grant, as mighty to make, And creates the love to reward the love:

I claim you still, for my own love's sake! Delayed, it may be, for more lives yet,

Through worlds I shall traverse, not a few: Much is to learn, much to forget

Ere the time be come for taking you.

But the time will come,—at last it will,

When, Evelyn Hope, what meant (I shall say)

In the lower earth, in the years long still,
That body and soul so pure and gay?

Remembrance

Why your hair was amber, I shall divine,

And your mouth of your own geranium's red,— And what you would do with me, in fine,

In the new life come in the old one's stead.

I have lived (I shall say) so much since then,
Given up myself so many times,

Gained me the gains of various men,

Ransacked the ages, spoiled the climes;
Yet one thing, one, in my soul's full scope,
Either I missed or itself missed me:
And I want and find you, Evelyn Hope!
What is the issue? let us see!

I loved you, Evelyn, all the while!

My heart seemed full as it could hold;

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There was place and to spare for the frank young smile, And the red young mouth, and the hair's young gold.

So, hush, I will give you this leaf to keep:

Sce, I shut it inside the sweet, cold hand!

There, that is our secret: go to sleep!

You will wake, and remember, and understand.

Robert Browning (1812-1889]

REMEMBRANCE

COLD in the earth—and the deep snow piled above thee,

Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!

Have I forgot, my only Love, to love thee,
Severed at last by Time's all-severing wave?

Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover Over the mountains, on that northern shore, Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?

Cold in the earth-and fifteen wild Decembers,
From those brown hills, have melted into spring:
Faithful, indeed, is the spirit that remembers
After such years of change and suffering!