Constance and Martuccio
"But often would he speak of you"
(Still Constance stood as still as stone).
"Nay, Lady, weep. I loved him too.
Have you no grief that he is gone?
That he went down at sea one night,
Coming to claim his heart's delight?"
—"I prithee leave me (Constance said) alone."
He went; she sat there hours on hours
And gazd on that remembered ring.
The night wind chilled to death her flowers.
She felt not it nor anything.
At last she raised her tearless eyes.
Saw the night-quiet in the skies.
And heard the nightingales begin to sing.
She wandered where the lilies stood
Like spirits that would shelter her,
But she in her white maidenhood
Made even lilies look less fair.
She wrapt round shoulders, breast and head,
A heavy cloak of faded red,
And where the streamlet went she follow'd there.
Musing—this heart I dare not strike,
He loved it. Neither lips he found
So sweet, must poison touch. Belike
I should remember underground.
How all the land and all the sea.
Lies cold between my love and me.
Would God I were with him where he lies drown'd
And ever where the streamlet went.
Fearless through sorrow, followed she;
Above the branches creaked and bent.
Where the wind caught them, heavily.
The owls shrieked and the ravens mourned,
But Constance never stayed or turned,
But went straight on, towards an unseen sea.
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