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77
MARGARET
On that high hill above the wold,
When the day has died in gold,
Margaret!
When the day has died in gold,
Margaret!
I have sung you mighty verse,
Half of blessing, half of curse,
Margaret!
Half of blessing, half of curse,
Margaret!
Yet though night hath brought a breeze,
You are still as frozen seas,
Margaret!
You are still as frozen seas,
Margaret!
And those lovely eyes are tired,
Orbs of brown I have not fired,
Margaret!
Orbs of brown I have not fired,
Margaret!
78
Still you listen wearily,
Striving to be kind to me,
Margaret!
Striving to be kind to me,
Margaret!
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