And in her cheeks the health of maidenhood Red as the blood-drops. So he sat and dreamed: When one rode up in angry steel and spoke Thrice to no answer, and in anger dashed A gauntlet in his face and made at him: And how he slew him and rode over him, Fiercer than fire; then how he returned To find her fairer than their Gwenddolen,-- Who, ere the coming of this loveliness, Divided all men's hearts with Gwenhwyvar:-- Crowned beauty of the beautiful at Court, With Gwenhwyvar, and fair among the fair. Thus while he mused he thought he heard her voice: Or was it fancy? teasing him with sounds Of music and of words: or did he hear Her lute below the creepered walls? whose leaves, Crimson with autumn, reddened all the court, Burning continual sunset, where she sat Beside the ceaseless whisper of the foam Of one faint fountain. Sweeter mockery Had never held him: and he heard her sing:-- "Ask me not now to sing to thee Songs I have loved to sing before. I love thee not; it can not be: The dream is done; the song is o'er. "Come, hold my hands: look deep into The heartbreak of my eyes that bore Glad welcome erst and now adieu; Adieu, adieu forevermore! "Once more shalt kiss my mouth and brow; Once more my hair,--as oft of yore When it was love and I and thou,-- Then nevermore! ah, nevermore! "Thou must not weep; I can not weep: I love thee not; should I regret?-- Nay! go; forget my face and sleep, Sleep and forget! sleep and forget!" "Aye! that I will! thy face, thy form, thy voice, O bird of spring! whose beak is in my heart. Take out thy beak, and sing me back my soul! O bird of spring," he said, "when flowers are dead Thy wing will winter underneath the pine, And hunger, for the summer that is gone, Will slay thy music with the memory. God give thou find no winter in thy heart Whenas dost find the frost invades thy voice! Ah, lovelier than thy song, there's that in me That harps and sings of thee; that troubadours Thy beauty! ballades, sonnets it! and makes A lyric of each heart-beat--all in vain: Thou dost not heed, thou wilt not hear it sing. Or, if thou dost, 'tis but in wantonness, Indifference pretending interest: then praise, A moiety, in mockery. And this To one who'd love thee over all belief, Above all women and beyond all men."