 | The Poetical Works of John Payne |  |
139
V.
A voice came over the Western water:
(The deathflower blows in the Summer's prime!)
‘Dearly,’ it said, ‘hast thou won and bought her.
Her kisses are cold as are the dead
And the gold of her hair o'er thee is shed,
As wings of the birds that fly to the slaughter!
The lips thou shouldst kiss are living and red,
Thine eyes should feast on the joys of earth,
Thy hands pluck flowers in the golden prime.
Youth was not made for sorrow and dearth:
Get thee back, whilst there yet is time;
For Death is the name of the marsh-king's daughter!’
(The deathflower blows in the Summer's prime!)
‘Dearly,’ it said, ‘hast thou won and bought her.
Her kisses are cold as are the dead
And the gold of her hair o'er thee is shed,
As wings of the birds that fly to the slaughter!
The lips thou shouldst kiss are living and red,
Thine eyes should feast on the joys of earth,
Thy hands pluck flowers in the golden prime.
Youth was not made for sorrow and dearth:
Get thee back, whilst there yet is time;
For Death is the name of the marsh-king's daughter!’
Weary of life, I answered and said,
‘O wind of the Western water!
My lips shall kiss but the lips of the dead.’
Sick of the day, I answered and said,
‘Kiss me, O marsh-king's daughter!’
‘O wind of the Western water!
My lips shall kiss but the lips of the dead.’
Sick of the day, I answered and said,
‘Kiss me, O marsh-king's daughter!’
| The Poetical Works of John Payne | |