care
And troublous, faint lines wrought in there,
He finishes her face for me.
_Beata mea Domina_!

Of her long neck what shall I say?
What things about her body's sway,
Like a knight's pennon or slim tree
_Beata mea Domina_!

Set gently waving in the wind;
Or her long hands that I may find
On some day sweet to move o'er me?
_Beata mea Domina!_

God pity me though, if I miss'd
The telling, how along her wrist
The veins creep, dying languidly
_Beata mea Domina!_

Inside her tender palm and thin.
Now give me pardon, dear, wherein
My voice is weak and vexes thee.
_Beata mea Domina!_

All men that see her any time,
I charge you straightly in this rhyme,
What, and wherever you may be,
_Beata mea Domina!_

To kneel before her; as for me,
I choke and grow quite faint to see
My lady moving graciously.
_Beata mea Domina!_

SUMMER DAWN

Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips;
Think but one thought of me up in the stars.
The summer night waneth, the morning light slips,
Faint and grey 'twixt the leaves of the aspen, betwixt the
cloud-bars,
That are patiently waiting there for the dawn:
Patient and colourless, though Heaven's gold
Waits to float through them along with the sun.
Far out in the meadows, above the young corn,
The heavy elms wait, and restless and cold
The uneasy wind rises; the roses are dun;
They pray the long gloom through for daylight new born,
Round the lone house in the midst of the corn.
Speak but one word to me over the corn,
Over the tender, bow'd locks of the corn.

IN PRISON

Wearily, drearily,
Half the day long,
Flap the great banners
High over the stone;
Strangely and eerily
Sounds the wind's song,
Bending the banner-poles.

While, all alone,
Watching the loophole's spark,
Lie I, with life all dark,
Feet tether'd, hands fetter'd
Fast to the stone,
The grim walls, square letter'd
With prison'd men's groan.

Still strain the banner-poles
Through the wind's song,
Westward the banner rolls
Over my wrong.

THE END

Printed by BALLANTYNE, HANSON & CO.
Edinburgh & London