Hast forgot the trick of speech?
Let’s hold converse, each with each—
For I see you, methinks, awake and aware,
Now the wind from the north blows thro’ your hair.
Oh, he fares so far ere he blows on me,
He can bring no word from mine own countrie.
Lithe now and listen, and tell me true,
What are the world and its ways to you?
Do you not grudge when the men pass by?
I shudder to think that such was I!
They fleer and they flout as they gaze on me—
The traitor that died on the gallows-tree!
What is it to you when the ladies pass?
You’d an eye, methinks, for a pretty lass.
What are they now to me, handsome and kind?
Red rose-leaves blowing down the wind.
They shudder and shrink when they gaze on me—
The traitor that died on the gallows-tree!
What do you hear in the running rain?
Ten thousand tears all shed in vain.