Page:The Collected Poems of Dora Sigerson Shorter.djvu/85

“And if you be my own true love,” she questioned,
“I fear you! Speak you quickly unto me.”
“O, I am not your own true love,” it answered,
“He drifts without a grave upon the sea.”

“If he be dead, then gladly will I follow
Down the black stairs of death into the grave.”
“Your lover calls you for a place to rest him
From the eternal tossing of the wave.”

“I'll make my love a bed both wide and hollow,
A grave wherein we both may ever sleep.”
“What give you for his body fair and slender,
To draw it from the dangers of the deep!”

“I'll give you both my silver comb and earrings,
I'll give you all my little treasure store.”
“I will but take what living thing comes forward,
The first to meet you, passing to your door.”

“O may my little dog be first to meet me,
So loose my lover from your dreaded hold.”
“What will you give me for the heart that loved you,
The heart that I hold chained and frozen cold!”

“My own betrothed ring I give you gladly,
My ring of pearls—and every one a tear!”
“I will but nave what other living creature
That second in your pathway shall appear.”

“To buy this heart, to warm my love to living,
I pray my pony meet me on return.”
“And now, for his young soul what will you give me,
His soul that night and day doth fret and burn!”

“You will not have my silver comb and earrings,
You will not have my ring of precious stone;
O, nothing have I left to promise to you.
But give my soul to buy him back bis own.”