Poems (Greenwell)/Ich Dien

by Dora Greenwell

"ICH DIEN."

She spake to him—that woman with a brow
Most like a Queen's,—"With all the sovereignty
That I was born to, crown and sceptre,
My soul hath parted—Be thou true to me;
Fain had I brought thee all; but vassal's vow
And bended knee were but for One; e'en so,
All state I may not share, I would forego!"

"Once dwelt I in a Palace of Delight,
 A lonely castle on enchanted seas;
Its hundred doors stood open day and night;
 My thoughts gold-banded—honey-laden bees—
 Passed to and fro for traffic; now all these
That I have slighted (like true friends of yore
Left for a stranger's smile), return no more.

"And I may not return to them, or stand
 Among them as in olden days, when well
They stored my treasure-caverns, for my hand
 Hath lost its wonted gesture; and the spell—
 Through murmuring one name this chance befell—
That gave those treasure-chambers to the clay,
Hath passed, forgotten, from my mind away!

"So let it pass!—it were a thought too bold
 Within my grasp to keep these empires twain,
And living in two Worlds, the New and Old,
 To serve in one, and in the other reign!
 Would now that all mine ancient fair domain,
To spirits calm and free I might resign,
To take their joy in it, as I in thine!"

Her words were high, yet like proud music shook
 From straining chords, that in their vibrant fall
Break over it, her faltering accents took
 Them all in humbleness; she did recall
 No gift for vaunting that had given all
For All or Nothing? pleading mournfully,
"I love, I serve,—oh, be thou true to me!"