ELAINE

OH, come again to Astolat!

I will not ask you to be kind.

And you may go when you will go,

And I will stay behind.

I will not say how dear you are,

Or ask you if you hold me dear,

Or trouble you with things for you

The way I did last year.

So still the orchard, Lancelot,

So very still the lake shall be,

You could not guess — though you should guess —

What is become of me.

So wide shall be the garden-walk,

The garden-seat so very wide,

You needs must think — if you should think —

The lily maid had died.

Save that, a little way away,

I'd watch you for a little while,

To see you speak, the way you speak,

And smile,— if you should smile.