TWO ROOMS

One room is full of luxury, and dim

With that soft moonlit radiance of light

That she best loves, who sits and dreams of him

Her heart has crowned as knight.

And one is bare, and comfortless, and dim

With that strange, fitful glimmer that is shed

By candles casting shadows weird and grim,

Above the sheeted dead.

In one, a round and beautiful young face

Is full of wordless rapture; and so fair

You know her breast is joy's best dwelling-place;

You know sweet love is there.

In one, there lies a white and wasted face

Whereon is frozen such supreme despair,

You need but look to know what left the trace;

You know love has been there.

To one he comes! She leans her head of gold

Upon his breast and bids him no more roam.

Ah God! Ah God! and one lies stark and cold,

Because he ceased to come.