Glad tears her eyes have blinded, The light they cannot reach; She turneth with that sudden smile She learnt before her speech-- "I do not hear his voice, the tears Have dimmed my light away, But the symbol light will last to-night, The love will last for aye!" The river floweth on. XVII. Then Luti spake behind her, Outspake she bitterly-- "By the symbol light that lasts to-night, Wilt vow a vow to me?" Nuleeni gazeth up her face, Soft answer maketh she-- "By loves that last when lights are past, I vow that vow to thee!" The river floweth on. XVIII. An earthly look had Luti Though her voice was deep as prayer-- "The rice is gathered from the plains To cast upon thine hair:[4] But when _he_ comes his marriage-band Around thy neck to throw, Thy bride-smile raise to meet his gaze, And whisper,--_There is one betrays, While Luti suffers woe._" The river floweth on. XIX. "And when in seasons after, Thy little bright-faced son Shall lean against thy knee and ask What deeds his sire hath done,-- Press deeper down thy mother-smile His glossy curls among, View deep his pretty childish eyes, And whisper,--_There is none denies, While Luti speaks of wrong._" The river floweth on. XX. Nuleeni looked in wonder, Yet softly answered she-- "By loves that last when lights are past, I vowed that vow to thee: But why glads it thee that a bride-day be By a word of _woe_ defiled? That a word of _wrong_ take the cradle-song From the ear of a sinless child?" "Why?" Luti said, and her laugh was dread, And her eyes dilated wild-- "That the fair new love may her bridegroom prove, And the father shame the child!" The river floweth on. XXI. "Thou flowest still, O river, Thou flowest 'neath the moon; Thy lily hath not changed a leaf,[5] Thy charmèd lute a tune: _He_ mixed his voice with thine and _his_ Was all I heard around; But now, beside his chosen bride, I hear the river's sound." The river floweth on. XXII. "I gaze upon her beauty Through the tresses that enwreathe it; The light above thy wave, is hers-- My rest, alone beneath it: Oh, give me back the dying look My father gave thy water! Give back--and let a little love O'erwatch his weary daughter!" The river floweth on. XXIII.