Xv

So I wept on the instrument broken, The instrument sweet of his death, The dagger that stabbed not to kill him, The dagger of song which had spoken, And ravished away his life's breath. So I wept, and my curls thick and golden Stormed entangled and showered 'mid his; My arms around him were enfolden, My lips clave to his with a kiss, With the life and the love of a kiss.

WHAT YOU WILL.