Page:Poems Piatt.djvu/28

Once, when the night was weird with rain,
 She sought a convent's shelter. When
The tapers showed a veiléd train
 Of nuns, instead of cowléd men,
 She stole into the night again:

"These women, sainted though they be,"
 She moaned through all her jealous mind,
"Are women still, and shall not see
 Philip the Fair—though he is blind!
 Favour with him I yet shall find."

Then, with her piteous yearning wild:
 "Unclose his coffin quick, I pray."
Fiercely the sudden lightning smiled—
 When they had laid the lid away—
 Like scorn, upon the regal clay.

She kissed the dead of many days,
 As though he were an hour asleep.
Dark men with swords to guard her way
 Wept for her—but she did not weep;
 She had her vigil still to keep.