“If I’m a beggar born,” she said
“I will speak out, for I dare not lie,
Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold,
And fling the diamond necklace by.”
“Nay now, my child,” said Alice the nurse,
“But keep the secret all you can.”
She said, “Not so; but I will know
If there be any faith in man.”
“Nay now, what faith?” said Alice the nurse,
“The man will cleave unto his right.”
“And he shall have it,” the lady replied,
“Though I should die to-night.”
“Yet give one kiss to your mother, dear!
Alas, my child! I sinned for thee.”
“O mother, mother, mother,” she said,
“So strange it seems to me!
“Yet here’s a kiss for my mother dear,
My mother dear, if this be so,
And lay your hand upon my head,
And bless me, mother, ere I go.”
She clad herself in a russen gown,
She was no longer Lady Clare:
She went by dale, and she went by down,
With a single rose in her hair.
