The fair faint-headed poppies drunk with ease, And heaviness of hollow lilies red. Then cried they all that saw these things, and said It was God's doing, and was marvellous. And in brief while this knight Theophilus Is waxen full of faith, and witnesseth Before the king of God and love and death, For which the king bade hang him presently. A gallows of a goodly piece of tree This Gabalus hath made to hang him on. Forth of this world lo Theophile is gone With a wried neck, God give us better fare Than his that hath a twisted throat to wear; But truly for his love God hath him brought There where his heavy body grieves him nought Nor all the people plucking at his feet; But in his face his lady's face is sweet, And through his lips her kissing lips are gone: God send him peace, and joy of such an one. This is the story of St. Dorothy. I will you of your mercy pray for me Because I wrote these sayings for your grace, That I may one day see her in the face. THE TWO DREAMS (FROM BOCCACCIO) I will that if I say a heavy thing Your tongues forgive me; seeing ye know that spring Has flecks and fits of pain to keep her sweet, And walks somewhile with winter-bitten feet. Moreover it sounds often well to let One string, when ye play music, keep at fret The whole song through; one petal that is dead Confirms the roses, be they white or red; Dead sorrow is not sorrowful to hear As the thick noise that breaks mid weeping were; The sick sound aching in a lifted throat Turns to sharp silver of a perfect note; And though the rain falls often, and with rain Late autumn falls on the old red leaves like pain, I deem that God is not disquieted. Also while men are fed with wine and bread, They shall be fed with sorrow at his hand. There grew a rose-garden in Florence land More fair than many; all red summers through The leaves smelt sweet and sharp of rain, and blew Sideways with tender wind; and therein fell Sweet sound wherewith the green waxed audible, As a bird's will to sing disturbed his throat And set the sharp wings forward like a boat Pushed through soft water, moving his brown side Smooth-shapen as a maid's, and shook with pride His deep warm bosom, till the heavy sun's Set face of heat stopped all the songs at once. The ways were clean to walk and delicate; And when the windy white of March grew late, Before the trees took heart to face the sun With ravelled raiment of lean winter on, The roots were thick and hot with hollow grass. Some roods away a lordly house there was, Cool with broad courts and latticed passage wet From rush-flowers and lilies ripe to set, Sown close among the strewings of the floor; And either wall of the slow corridor Was dim with deep device of gracious things; Some angel's steady mouth and weight of wings Shut to the side; or Peter with straight stole