Night-deep; and eyes dove-gray with dreams;—
By the fountain-side where the statue gleams
And the moonbeam lolls in the lily white,—
For her knightly lover who comes at night.
Heigh-ho! they ceased, those meetings. I wot,
Betrayed to the Baron by some of his crew
Of menials who followed and saw and knew.
For she loved too well to have once forgot
The time and the place of their trysting true.
"Why and when?" would ask Sir Hugh