And asks if I love her still.
She carries a knife in her girdle—her eyes have a glitter
Like daggers—her hand is as white as the veil of a bride;
But her voice I have never heard—yet know I full surely,
She asks if I love her still.
In token thereof I have given her up my girdle,
My cap with its feathers gay,
My mantle with broid'ry brave, and my glitt'ring daggers.
And my songs, I have given them all to her, one by one,
Yet the gayest bring no smile to her face, and the saddest