On her pale brow was a look of soft peace.
Upward she went;
Never a glance in her welcome release
Backward she bent.
Red was her cloak, and her face like a flower
Dear to behold;
Little red slippers she wore in that hour
Buckled with gold.
Up the white steps like a flash of red flame,
In through the door;
Quick did I follow to tremble her name—
Saw her no more.
Saw her no more from that hour—she had gone,
Vanished away,
Like a bright light on my lone path that shone,
Then let me stray.
II
I had a neighbour—he was my friend,
Since in the wood
Lone our two houses were, each gable-end
United stood.
This was a manor once built for a knight
In days of old.
But with the centuries love and their fight
Squandered the gold.
So for my friend, when inheritance came
Coffers were bare.
Just the old keep and the weight of a name,
This was his share.
