Page:Poems Rossetti.djvu/141

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THE LOWEST ROOM.
113
"Gross from his acorns, tusky boar
Does memorable acts like his;
So for her snared offended young
  Bleeds the swart lioness."

But here she paused; our eyes had met,
And I was whitening with the jeer;
She rose; "I went too far," she said;
  Spoke low; "Forgive me, dear.

To me our days seem pleasant days,
Our home a haven of pure content;
Forgive me if I said too much,
  So much more than I meant.

"Homer, though greater than his gods,
With rough-hewn virtues was sufficed
And rough-hewn men: but what are such
  To us who learn of Christ?"

The much-moved pathos of her voice,
Her almost tearful eyes, her cheek
Grown pale, confessed the strength of love
  Which only made her speak:

For mild she was, of few soft words,
Most gentle, easy to be led,
Content to listen when I spoke
  And reverence what I said;