Began to soften in her sense of it. There under all the little branches sweet The place was shapen of his burial; They shed thereon no thing funereal, But coloured leaves of latter rose-blossom, Stems of soft grass, some withered red and some Fair and fresh-blooded; and spoil splendider Of marigold and great spent sunflower. And afterward she came back without word To her own house; two days went, and the third Went, and she showed her father of this thing. And for great grief of her soul's travailing He gave consent she should endure in peace Till her life's end; yea, till her time should cease, She should abide in fellowship of pain. And having lived a holy year or twain She died of pure waste heart and weariness. And for love's honour in her love's distress This word was written over her tomb's head; "Here dead she lieth, for whose sake Love is dead." AHOLIBAH In the beginning God made thee A woman well to look upon, Thy tender body as a tree Whereon cool wind hath always blown Till the clean branches be well grown. There was none like thee in the land; The girls that were thy bondwomen Did bind thee with a purple band Upon thy forehead, that all men Should know thee for God's handmaiden. Strange raiment clad thee like a bride, With silk to wear on hands and feet And plates of gold on either side: Wine made thee glad, and thou didst eat Honey, and choice of pleasant meat. And fishers in the middle sea Did get thee sea-fish and sea-weeds In colour like the robes on thee; And curious work of plaited reeds, And wools wherein live purple bleeds. And round the edges of thy cup Men wrought thee marvels out of gold, Strong snakes with lean throats lifted up, Large eyes whereon the brows had hold, And scaly things their slime kept cold. For thee they blew soft wind in flutes And ground sweet roots for cunning scent; Made slow because of many lutes, The wind among thy chambers went Wherein no light was violent. God called thy name Aholibah, His tabernacle being in thee, A witness through waste Asia; Thou wert a tent sewn cunningly With gold and colours of the sea. God gave thee gracious ministers And all their work who plait and weave: The cunning of embroiderers That sew the pillow to the sleeve, And likeness of all things that live. Thy garments upon thee were fair With scarlet and with yellow thread; Also the weaving of thine hair Was as fine gold upon thy head, And thy silk shoes were sewn with red. All sweet things he bade sift, and ground As a man grindeth wheat in mills With strong wheels alway going round; He gave thee corn, and grass that fills The cattle on a thousand hills.