By John Davidson
277
"I care not for my broken vow,Though God should come in thunder soon;I am sister to the mountains now,And sister to the sun and moon."
Through all the towns of Belmarie,She made a progress like a queen."She is," they said, "whate'er she be,The strangest woman ever seen.
"From fairyland she must have come,Or else she is a mermaiden."Some said she was a ghoul, and someA heathen goddess born again.
But soon her fire to ashes burned;Her beauty changed to haggardness;Her golden hair to silver turned;The hour came of her last caress.
At midnight from her lonely bedShe rose, and said: "I have had my will."The old ragged robe she donned, and fledBack to the convent on the hill.
Half-naked as she went before,She hurried to the city wall,Unnoticed in the rush and roarAnd splendour of the Carnival.
"No
