Chapter 7 No.7

At Dawn. The Scottish Gate.

Mary (on her way to the gate, singing to herself).

As a wind that has run all day

Among the fragrant clover,

At evening to a valley comes;

So comes to me my lover.

And as all night a honey'd warmth

Stays where the wind did lie,

So when my lover leaves my arms

My heart's all honey.

But what have I to do with this? And when

Was that song put in hiding 'mid my thought?

I might be on my way to meet and give

Good morrow to my-Ah! last night, last night!

O fie! I must not dream so.

[At the Gate.

It was I!

I am the girl whose lover they have killed,

Who never saw him until out of death

He lookt into my soul. I was to meet

Somewhere in life my lover, and behold,

He has turned into an inn I dare not enter,

And gazes through a window at my soul

Going on labour'd with this loving body.-

Did I not sleep last night with you in my arms?

I could have sworn it. Why should body have

So large a part in love? For if 'twere only

Spirit knew how to love, an easy road

My feet had down to death. But I must want

Lips against mine, and arms marrying me,

And breast to kiss with its dear warmth my breast,-

Body must love! O me, how it must ache

Before it is as numb as thine, dear boy!

Poor darling, didst thou forget that I was made

To wed thee, body and soul? For surely else

Thou hadst not gone from life.-

Ah, folk already,

Coming to curse the light with all their stares.