 | [Poems by Fields in] The poets of Portsmouth |  |
105
MARIAN IN HER CELL.
After the Murder.
You looked across the meadows
At the red sun in the west,
And the wood was full of shadows;
But my head lay on your breast,
And your words were low and sweet,
And our hearts in music beat.
At the red sun in the west,
And the wood was full of shadows;
But my head lay on your breast,
And your words were low and sweet,
And our hearts in music beat.
You spoke,—I only listened,—
(Blest hours without alloy!)
You sang,—my tear-drops glistened,—
I was dumb and blind with joy.
Could I hear your bridal bell—
You in Heaven, and I in Hell!
(Blest hours without alloy!)
You sang,—my tear-drops glistened,—
I was dumb and blind with joy.
Could I hear your bridal bell—
You in Heaven, and I in Hell!
Could I stop the cursèd blade,
At your throat so warm and white;
Where my loving fingers played
With the moonlight through the night?
Could I think, and hold the steel!
Could I pause, and live to feel!
At your throat so warm and white;
Where my loving fingers played
With the moonlight through the night?
Could I think, and hold the steel!
Could I pause, and live to feel!
By the hallowed word of God
There is Murder on your soul!
As I knelt upon the sod
Where the death-black waters roll,
I could hear the angry flood
Calling, hoarsely, “Blood for Blood!”
There is Murder on your soul!
As I knelt upon the sod
Where the death-black waters roll,
I could hear the angry flood
Calling, hoarsely, “Blood for Blood!”
| [Poems by Fields in] The poets of Portsmouth | |