Page:Poems Holley.djvu/86

The knight's old stumbling steed that played him false
To its own harm, for which it lost its life,
More fortunate the youth, though bruiséd he,
And bleeding from his many grievous wounds,
And Gladys tended him with gentlest care
Till love crept in and took the place of pain,
And in her heart took Pity's weeping place
And dwelt a king. He knew she was the bride
Of Heaven, not to be vexed with earthly love,
But yet, upon the last night of his stay,
As by the lake's low marge he met the maid,
And saw her soft eyes fall before his own,
He laid an almond blossom in her hand,
A blossom that both sweet and bitter is,
And said but this, "Say, is dear love a dream?"

"Nay, not a dream," she murmured, looking out
To where the light upon the waters lay,
A golden pathway leading to the sun,
"Dear love the wakening is, this life we live
Is but a dream." Then with a sudden hope
He would have caught her hands, but no, she clasped
Them o'er the snowy muslin on her breast,
And on her heart like drops of crimson blood,
There lay the almond blossoms, bitter, sweet;
And far away her pure eyes looked adown.
That shining path across the summer sea,