Will and Abel were their names,
Though they went by others;
He could tell ten thousand stories
Of these lusty brothers.
How the Emperor’s elder daughter
Fell in love with Will,
And went with him to the Court of Venus
Over Hoo Hill;
How Gog’s wife encountered Abel
Whom she hated most,
Stole away his arms and helmet,
Turned him to a post.
As a post he shall be rooted
For yet many years,
Until a maiden shall release him
With a fall of tears.
But Betsy likes the bloodier stories,
Clang and clash of fight,
And Abel wanes with the spent candle,
“Sweetheart, good-night!”
A LOVER SINCE CHILDHOOD
Tangled in thought am I,
Stumble in speech do I?
Do I blunder and blush for the reason why?
Wander aloof do I,
Lean over gates and sigh,
Making friends with the bee and the butterfly?
If thus and thus I do,
Dazed by the thought of you,
Walking my sorrowful way in the early dew,
My heart cut through and through
In this despair for you,
Starved for a word or a look will my hope renew;
Give then a thought for me
Walking so miserably,
Wanting relief in the friendship of flower or tree;
Do but remember, we
Once could in love agree,
Swallow your pride, let us be as we used to be.