At last, they reached the highest stage,
Windswept and open to the stars.
The battlements were worn with age
But waving grasses hid the scars.
The lonely Jungle lay serene,
Beneath the star-bejewelled skies,
They turned them from the silver scene
To seek once more each other's eyes.
But when he caught her to his breast
She shrank in delicate dismay;
So, chilled, he left her uncaressed
And drew his eager arms away.
Her eyes beneath their lashes hid
The tender tears that left them dim,
As down the ladder-rungs he slid
And drew it swiftly after him.
"It must," he cried, "be naught or all;
And I shall come no more to thee
Till from the Tower I hear thee call
To say thou wilt be kind to me!"
"Stay now" she begged. He would not heed,
But down the ruined, twisting stair
He crushed his way with reckless speed
And reached the scented outer air.
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