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And Duty looked at her with grim, grey face,
And as he looked her flowers drooped and died:
“Go down! within the shadow is thy place,
Go down!” he said: “I may not be denied.”
“Ah Duty! must I part from happiness,
And from my Love?—him must I lose indeed?”—
“Leave thou thy Garden to the wilderness,
And thy dear Love, and follow as I lead!”
“And must I leave my flowers all behind?
Lo, I will take this sprig of rosemary,
That, growing in the valley, it may mind
Me of my mountains, and my mighty sea.”
So saying she within her bosom set
A golden jar that in the sunlight flashed;
Wherein grew rosemary and mignonette;
Then turned she, and the gate behind them clashed.
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