Page:Poems Eckley.djvu/101

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Lady Clarisse.
87
Why fling away the scarlet rose, tied with a golden thread;
Its beauty burned to ashes—all scentless—withered—dead,—
Like the blaze of passion quickly lighted, and as quickly fled?

But hark! another step is following up the turret stair—
A heavy tread, a clanking sword, which seems to say "Beware!"
I heard it on the battlement, it rent the startled air!
And now 'tis said a spectral lady walks for ever there!