GERAINT
Open, dear Lady, the little red door—
The little red door to me!
Night is all cold and my feet are sore;
I have made a long journey.
Leagues have I travelled, the mountains crossed
Eager for love of thee;
Lady, I fear that thy love is lost:
Open thy heart to me!
Open thy heart and I will go in
The red door silently;
There I shall find what I seek to win,
Dear Lady, thy love for me!
GRIEF
My heart is pain,
My spirit dearth;
Tears are the rain
Upon the earth:
And all the over-clouded sky
Is not more darkened than am I.
A while ago
I watched the snow,
And laughed to see
Its witchery;
Now that your face is turned away,
Winter's white magic melts from day.
The casement wide,
This wan Yuletide,
I opened—heard
One little bird
A-piping on a crystalled bough,
But he will pipe no longer now;