SONGS OF ISEULT DESERTED
I
I do not pray for thee, most dear of all,
That ever in soft ways thy feet may fall,
For well I know that wheresoe’er thou art
Thy feet must tread forever on my heart!
I pray thee only to walk gently, sweet,
Nor press too sharply with too cruel feet:
Remember thou how soft the way must be,
How soft—and ah, how sad—and pity me!
II
Should we have loved if we had known
That love would bring one day such pain?
I cannot tell—I only kiss
The pillow where your head has lain.
Should we have loved if we had known
That love would go to come no more?
I cannot tell—I only stand
And sob before a fast-closed door.
III
Since you are gone, all dull my life has grown,
Idle among my empty days I stand:
They pass and pass, and leave me here alone—
Ah, sweet, your hand that burned upon my hand!
Since you are gone, gone are the joys I knew,
Slowly from out the sky the long night slips:
And my arms ache with emptiness of you—
Ah, sweet, your lips that trembled on my lips!
Since you are gone, the world is grown too wide,
With cruel miles that hold us two apart:
I sit and watch the white road weary-eyed—
Ah, sweet, your heart that beat against my heart!