Your grace a broken heart I leave."
Then as from them I turned my feet
I listened how they laughèd sweet:
And "Fare you well," their laughter ran,
"Broken-hearted gentleman."
But shoulder-over I did call:
"Dance on, ye scornful sweetings all.
"When I am lost in shadows grey
My gifts ye shall not fling away.
"While still the spring beneath your feet