DOUBLE QUATRAINS.
121
X.
FOR ANOTHER'S SAKE.
Sweet, sweet? My child, some sweeter word than sweet,
Some lovelier word than love, I want for you.
'Who says the world is bitter, while your feet
Are left among the lilies and the dew?
Some lovelier word than love, I want for you.
'Who says the world is bitter, while your feet
Are left among the lilies and the dew?
. . . Ah? So some other has, this night, to fold
Such hands as his, and drop some precious head
From off her breast as full of baby-gold?
I, for her grief, will not be comforted.
Such hands as his, and drop some precious head
From off her breast as full of baby-gold?
I, for her grief, will not be comforted.
