 | Poems Lyrical and Dramatic |  |
180
TILL JUDGMENT DAY.
AN ARABESQUE.
They set her down on her early bier,
And the women wept around.
“For the love of my soul,” quoth the priest, “I fear
To lay her in holy ground.”
“O holy Father,” the mother cried,
“What secret is known to thee?
They shall lay me soon by the dear girl's side,
Wherever her place may be.”
And the women wept around.
“For the love of my soul,” quoth the priest, “I fear
To lay her in holy ground.”
“O holy Father,” the mother cried,
“What secret is known to thee?
They shall lay me soon by the dear girl's side,
Wherever her place may be.”
There rode a stranger up to the door,
And alighted in hottest haste;
He flung himself on the bier, and swore
There was never a maid so chaste.
“I shall sleep with her, the live with the dead,
In the earth we shall be one:
You must nail me down in her grave,” he said,
“For the ill that I have done.”
And alighted in hottest haste;
He flung himself on the bier, and swore
There was never a maid so chaste.
181
In the earth we shall be one:
You must nail me down in her grave,” he said,
“For the ill that I have done.”
They nailed him down in the grave with her,
And thrice on the nails they smote,
But they heard nor struggle within, nor stir,
Save the death-rattle in his throat.
They listened long on the coffin-lid,
But the dying lips were dumb;
And none shall ever his love forbid
Till the Day of Judgment come.
And thrice on the nails they smote,
But they heard nor struggle within, nor stir,
Save the death-rattle in his throat.
They listened long on the coffin-lid,
But the dying lips were dumb;
And none shall ever his love forbid
Till the Day of Judgment come.
| Poems Lyrical and Dramatic | |