A BALLAD OF LOVE AND DEATH

She winded on the castle horn,

She clamored long and bold,

For she was way-spent and forlorn

And she was sore a-cold.

And she stood lonely in the snow.

Vague quiet filled the air....

From heaven's roof looked down aloof

The stars, with steady stare.

She heard the droning drift of snow

And the wolf-wind on the hill....

No other sound.... For leagues around

The night was very still.

She cried aloud in sudden fright,

“Open! Warder ho!

Here is a pilgrim guest to-night

Who can no farther go.”

The steady beat of mailed feet

In angry answer rang

Along the floor. The castle door

Gave in with iron clang

And the warder strode into his tower

And saw her standing there

Weary, like a storm-tossed flower,

And, like an angel, fair.

“Here is no lodging for the night,

No bread and wine for thee,

No ingle bright, no warm firelight,

No cheerful company.

“Here is no inn nor any kin

Of thine to harbor guest,

Nor thee to house will any rouse

Out of his ancient rest.”

Unearthly, dark, nocturnal things

With faint and furtive stir

Hovered on feather-muffled wings

Round the fair face of her

As she made answer wearily:

“Ah! open now the gate.

Though I was fleet with willing feet,

I have come very late.

“Yea, though I came through flood and flame,

Through tempest, flood, and fire,

And left the wind to trail behind

The wings of my desire,

“And though I prayed the stars for aid

And seas for wind and tide,

And though God gave me goodly pave

And ran, Himself, beside...

“Aye, though my feet have been thus fleet,

Unto one heart, I know,

Whose sleep is still beneath the hill,

My coming has been slow.”

And he bent gently down above,

A soft light in his eye...

“Is not the holy name of Love

The name men call thee by?

“Ah, Love, I know thee, for thy face

Is other-worldly fair;

A great light of some heavenly place

Is on thy shining hair.

“But thou, Love, who canst tread the stars,

Whose seat is by God's throne,

Why wilt thou bend thee to the dust

And walk the dark alone?

“Thy ways are not our mortal ways.

Hast thou nought else to do

Than wander with thy dream-lit face

Our glimmering darkness through?”

But Love made answer, and her voice

Was as God's voice to him;

As tall and fair she towered there

As heavenly seraphim...

“Open the gate! for Love shall dwell

Even among the dead

And in the darkest deeps of hell!

Open! For God hath said!”