Page:Poems Greenwell.djvu/33

Of tender Truth, that did not fail
 For time or change, and long
Long suffered, rather than to give
 Content to suffer wrong;
A song that hath been oft-times sung,
 A tale that hath been told
Since first this world of ours was young,
 Nor with it groweth old;
While human eyes keep tears to weep,
 And hearts have love to hold
For friend or lover under sun,
 Or underneath the mould.

The matron on her Dais high,
 That held her place of pride,
Turned, with a trouble in her eye,
 Her stately head aside;
For through the music little feet
 Went moving, and the child
That One who loveth souls took back,
 Unaltered, unbeguiled,
With sweet voice small did seem to call
 Upon her name, and smiled.
The Gallant drew his plumèd cap
 Across his brow, and sighed;
A hand was clasped within his own,
 A step was by his side;
A soft low voice he seemed to meet,
 Each whispered tone he knew;