 | Lays of France |  |
And, since to her
No man returned; since no more lack
Of her gave any strength to stir
The very grave-stone and come back;
And he whose soul's least word of love
Seemed a love-fetter strong enough
To bind eternity to whole
Eternity,—since now his soul
Having content of her, or quite
Forgetting, left her, as a thing
Not owned, and never jealous sting,
Caused him to care now, day or night,
What chance might happen to the white
Unblemished beauty or the heart
His empire:—ah, as houseless wraiths
And unhoused creeping beasts would glide
Back to a house the day he died
Who cast them forth,—so, from each part
Of her annulled past, full of faiths
Abjured and fruitless loves and loss,
There came back to her heart the host
Of memories comfortless; the ghost
Of every lover now might cross
Its threshold when he would, to scare
And grieve her with his tears, or bare
The great wound in his heart, or make
Long threat of unknown things for sake
Of some forgotten heedless word.
No man returned; since no more lack
103
The very grave-stone and come back;
And he whose soul's least word of love
Seemed a love-fetter strong enough
To bind eternity to whole
Eternity,—since now his soul
Having content of her, or quite
Forgetting, left her, as a thing
Not owned, and never jealous sting,
Caused him to care now, day or night,
What chance might happen to the white
Unblemished beauty or the heart
His empire:—ah, as houseless wraiths
And unhoused creeping beasts would glide
Back to a house the day he died
Who cast them forth,—so, from each part
Of her annulled past, full of faiths
Abjured and fruitless loves and loss,
There came back to her heart the host
Of memories comfortless; the ghost
Of every lover now might cross
Its threshold when he would, to scare
And grieve her with his tears, or bare
104
Long threat of unknown things for sake
Of some forgotten heedless word.
| Lays of France | |