'SAD one, must you weep alway?
Youth's ill wedded with despair;
Ringless hand and robe of grey
Mock the charms which they declare.'

Sad and sweetly answered she,
'What are comely robes to me?
I would wear a grass green dress,
Dew pearls for my gems--no less
Now can comfort me.'

'Sweet, the shining of your hair
(All forgotten and undone)
Squanders 'neath the veil you wear
Gold whose loss bereaves the sun.'

Very sad and low said she,
'What is shining hair to me?
When from out the rain-wet mold
Kingcups borrow of its gold
Sweet and sweet 'twill be.'

'Love, O Love! your hand is chill
As a snowflake lost in spring,
Wild it flutters--then lies still
As a bird with prisoned wing!'

Sad and patient answered she,
'As a bird I would be free;
As the spring I would find birth
In the sweet, forgetful earth--
Pray you, let it be!'

More verses by Isabel Ecclestone Mackay