THE RIVAL

I so loved once, When Death came by I hid

Away my face,

And all my sweetheart's tresses she undid

To make my hiding-place.

The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and

I turned me then

To calm my love — kiss down her shielding hand

And comfort her again.

And lo! she answered not: And she did sit

All fixedly,

With her fair face and the sweet smile of it,

In love with Death, not me.