72
THE DEAD WIFE
“Within the shadow of the tomb
In one embrace to rest.
My shoulder for his weary head.
His babe upon my breast”
Now when the maiden all so pale
This piteous tale did hear,
She loosed her braids of nut-brown hair,
And dropped full oft a tear.
“Now go you back, poor ghost,” said she,
“And may your sleep be sound;
And grieve you naught for any man
Who walks the upper ground.
“And do not wake for any soul
Who on this earth doth live;
For if your dear doth grieve him sore
You could not comfort give.
“For he doth weep the lone night through
And all the weary day.
Since I unto his suit am cold
And to his love say nay!”
