University of Virginia Library


357

RHYME SLAYETH SHAME

If as I come unto her she might hear,
If words might reach her when from her I go,
Then speech a little of my heart might show,
Because indeed nor joy nor grief nor fear
Silence my love; but her gray eyes and clear,
Truer than truth, pierce through my weal and woe;
The world fades with its woods, and naught I know
But that my changed life to My Life is near.
Go, then, poor rhymes, who know my heart indeed,
And sing to her the words I cannot say,—
That Love has slain Time, and knows no today
And no tomorrow; tell her of my need,
And how I follow where her footsteps lead,
Until the veil of speech death draws away.