"I could rest if you would not moan Hour after hour; I have no power To shut my ears where I lie alone. "I could rest if you would not cry; But there's no sleeping while you sit weeping,-- Watching, weeping so bitterly."-- "Woe's me! woe's me! for this I have heard. O, night of sorrow!--O, black to-morrow! Is it thus that you keep your word? "O you who used so to shelter me Warm from the least wind,--why, now the east wind Is warmer than you, whom I quake to see. "O my husband of flesh and blood, For whom my mother I left, and brother, And all I had, accounting it good, "What do you do there, underground, In the dark hollow? I'm fain to follow. What do you do there?--what have you found?"-- "What I do there I must not tell; But I have plenty. Kind wife, content ye: It is well with us,--it is well. "Tender hand hath made our nest; Our fear is ended, our hope is blended With present pleasure, and we have rest."-- "O, but Robin, I'm fain to come, If your present days are so pleasant; For my days are so wearisome. "Yet I'll dry my tears for your sake: Why should I tease you, who cannot please you Any more with the pains I take?" MEMORY. I. I nursed it in my bosom while it lived, I hid it in my heart when it was dead; In joy I sat alone, even so I grieved Alone and nothing said. I shut the door to face the naked truth, I stood alone,--I faced the truth alone, Stripped bare of self-regard or forms or ruth Till first and last were shown. I took the perfect balances and weighed; No shaking of my hand disturbed the poise; Weighed, found it wanting: not a word I said, But silent made my choice. None know the choice I made; I make it still. None know the choice I made and broke my heart, Breaking mine idol: I have braced my will Once, chosen for once my part. I broke it at a blow, I laid it cold, Crushed in my deep heart where it used to live. My heart dies inch by inch; the time grows old, Grows old in which I grieve. II. I have a room whereinto no one enters Save I myself alone: There sits a blessed memory on a throne, There my life centres. While winter comes and goes--O tedious comer!-- And while its nip-wind blows; While bloom the bloodless lily and warm rose Of lavish summer. If any should force entrance he might see there One buried yet not dead, Before whose face I no more bow my head Or bend my knee there; But often in my worn life's autumn weather I watch there with clear eyes, And think how it will be in Paradise When we're together. A ROYAL PRINCESS.