Part 33 (1/2)

Forgettest thou the hunger-pain And all thy young life made but vain?

How there was nought to help or aid, But for poor Goldilocks the Maid?”

She murmured, ”Each to each we two, Our faces from the wood-mirk grew.

Hast thou forgot the gra.s.sy place, And love betwixt us face to face?

Hast thou forgot how fair I deemed Thy face? How fair thy garment seemed?

Thy kisses on my shoulders bare, Through rents of the poor raiment there?

My arms that loved thee nought unkissed All o'er from shoulder unto wrist?

Hast thou forgot how brave thou wert, Thou with thy fathers' weapon girt;

When underneath the bramble-bush I quaked like river-shaken rash,

Wondering what new-wrought shape of death Should quench my new love-quickened breath?

Or else: forget'st thou, Goldilocks, Thine own land of the wheaten shocks?

Thy mother and thy sisters dear, Thou said'st would bide thy true-love there?

Hast thou forgot? Hast thou forgot?

O love, my love, I move thee not.”

Silent the fair Queen sat and smiled, And heeded nought the Angel's child,

For like an image fas.h.i.+oned fair Still sat the Swain with empty stare.

These words seemed spoken not, but writ As foolish tales through night-dreams flit.

Vague pictures pa.s.sed before his sight, As in the first dream of the night.

But the Maiden opened her basket fair, And set two doves on the table there.

And soft they cooed, and sweet they billed Like man and maid with love fulfilled.

Therewith the Maiden reached a hand To a dish that on the board did stand;

And she crumbled a share of the spice-loaf brown, And the Swain upon her hand looked down;

Then unto the fowl his eyes he turned; And as in a dream his bowels yearned

For somewhat that he could not name; And into his heart a hope there came.

And still he looked on the hands of the Maid, As before the fowl the crumbs she laid.