And sweet. "Belov'd, thou art glad of me!" Then thus

Antiphonal to him she breathes, "Thou sayest!"

"I see thy light and hail it!"

"Thou begayest

My poor light."

"Knowest thou not that thou art loved?"

"And am I loved then?"

"If thou'ldst have it proved,

[37]

Look in my eyes. Would thine were open book!"

"Palimpsest I," she said, and would not look.

But he was grappling now with truth, would have it,

What though it cost him all his gain. She gave it,

Looking him along. "O lady mine," he said,

"Now are my clouds disperséd every shred;

For thou art mine; I think thou lovest me.

Speak, is that true?"

She could not, or may be

She would not hold her gaze, but let it fall,

And watched her fingers idling on the wall,

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