Iv

At Dawn. The Scottish Gate.

Mary (on her way to the gate, singing to herself). As a wind that has run all day Among the fragrant clover, At evening to a valley comes; So comes to me my lover.

And as all night a honey'd warmth Stays where the wind did lie, So when my lover leaves my arms My heart's all honey.

But what have I to do with this? And when Was that song put in hiding 'mid my thought? I might be on my way to meet and give Good morrow to my--Ah! last night, last night! O fie! I must not dream so.

[At the Gate. It was I! I am the girl whose lover they have killed, Who never saw him until out of death He lookt into my soul. I was to meet Somewhere in life my lover, and behold, He has turned into an inn I dare not enter, And gazes through a window at my soul Going on labour'd with this loving body.-- Did I not sleep last night with you in my arms? I could have sworn it. Why should body have So large a part in love? For if 'twere only Spirit knew how to love, an easy road My feet had down to death. But I must want Lips against mine, and arms marrying me, And breast to kiss with its dear warmth my breast,-- Body must love! O me, how it must ache Before it is as numb as thine, dear boy! Poor darling, didst thou forget that I was made To wed thee, body and soul? For surely else Thou hadst not gone from life.-- Ah, folk already, Coming to curse the light with all their stares.