The brave white witnesses
To the truth within
Took the dart of folly,
Took the jeer of sin;
Crying "Follow, follow,
Back to Eden gate!"
They trod the Polar desert,
Met a desert fate.
Be laurel to the victor,
And roses to the fair,
And asphodel Elysian
Let the hero wear;
But lay the maiden lilies
Upon their narrow biers --
The lone grey company
Before the pioneers.
A Folk Song
I came to your town, my love,
And you were away, away!
I said "She is with the Queen's maidens:
They tarry long at their play.
They are stringing her words like pearls
To throw to the dukes and earls."
But O, the pity!
I had but a morn of windy red
To come to the town where you were bred,
And you were away, away!
I came to your town, my love,
And you were away, away!
I said, "She is with the mountain elves
And misty and fair as they.
They are spinning a diamond net
To cover her curls of jet."
But O, the pity!
I had but a noon of searing heat
To come to your town, my love, my sweet,
And you were away, away!
I came to your town, my love,
And you were away, away!
I said, "She is with the pale white saints,
And they tarry long to pray.
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