No More Learning

the bride weepeth.

'How long shall I wait, come heat come rime? '--
'Till the strong Prince comes, who must come in time'
(Her women say), 'there's a mountain to climb,
A river to ford. Sleep, dream and sleep; 10
Sleep' (they say): 'we've muffled the chime,
Better dream than weep. '

In his world-end palace the strong Prince sat,
Taking his ease on cushion and mat,
Close at hand lay his staff and his hat.
'When wilt thou start? the bride waits, O youth. '--
'Now the moon's at full; I tarried for that,
Now I start in truth.

'But tell me first, true voice of my doom,
Of my veiled bride in her maiden bloom; 20
Keeps she watch through glare and through gloom,
Watch for me asleep and awake? '--
'Spell-bound she watches in one white room,
And is patient for thy sake.

'By her head lilies and rosebuds grow;
The lilies droop, will the rosebuds blow?
The silver slim lilies hang the head low;
Their stream is scanty, their sunshine rare:
Let the sun blaze out, and let the stream flow,
They will blossom and wax fair. 30

'Red and white poppies grow at her feet,
The blood-red wait for sweet summer heat,
Wrapped in bud-coats hairy and neat;
But the white buds swell, one day they will burst,
Will open their death-cups drowsy and sweet--
Which will open the first? '

Then a hundred sad voices lifted a wail,
And a hundred glad voices piped on the gale:
'Time is short, life is short,' they took up the tale:
'Life is sweet, love is sweet, use to-day while you may; 40
Love is sweet, and to-morrow may fail;
Love is sweet, use to-day. '

While the song swept by, beseeching and meek,
Up rose the Prince with a flush on his cheek,
Up he rose to stir and to seek,
Going forth in the joy of his strength;
Strong of limb if of purpose weak,
Starting at length.
Forth he set in the breezy morn,
Crossing green fields of nodding corn, 50
As goodly a Prince as ever was born;
Carolling with the carolling lark;--
Sure his bride will be won and worn,
Ere fall of the dark.

So light his step, so merry his smile,
A milkmaid loitered beside a stile,
Set down her pail and rested awhile,
A wave-haired milkmaid, rosy and white;
The Prince, who had journeyed at least a mile,
Grew athirst at the sight. 60

'Will you give me a morning draught? '--
'You're kindly welcome,' she said, and laughed.
He lifted the pail, new milk he quaffed;
Then wiping his curly black beard like silk:
'Whitest cow that ever was calved
Surely gave you this milk. '

Was it milk now, or was it cream?
Was she a maid, or an evil dream?
Here eyes began to glitter and gleam;
He would have gone, but he stayed instead; 70
Green they gleamed as he looked in them:
'Give me my fee,' she said. --

'I will give you a jewel of gold. '--
'Not so; gold is heavy and cold. '--
'I will give you a velvet fold
Of foreign work your beauty to deck. '--
'Better I like my kerchief rolled
Light and white round my neck. '--

'Nay,' cried he, 'but fix your own fee. '--
She laughed, 'You may give the full moon to me; 80
Or else sit under this apple-tree
Here for one idle day by my side;
After that I'll let you go free,
And the world is wide. '

Loth to stay, but to leave her slack,
He half turned away, then he quite turned back:
For courtesy's sake he could not lack
To redeem his own royal pledge;
Ahead too the windy heaven lowered black
With a fire-cloven edge. 90

So he stretched his length in the apple-tree shade,
Lay and laughed and talked to the maid,
Who twisted her hair in a cunning braid
And writhed it shining in serpent-coils,
And held him a day and night fast laid
In her subtle toils.