For, is one moonlight dance,
One midnight passion,
A rock whereon to fashion
Life’s citadel?
Prove they their power to prance
Life’s miles together
From upper slope to nether
Who trip an ell?
—Years hence, or now apace,
May tongues be calling
News of my further falling
Sinward pell-mell:
Then this great good will grace
Our lives’ division,
She’s saved from more misprision
Though I plumb hell.
189–
THE COLOUR
(The following lines are partly made up, partly remembered from a Wessex folk-rhyme)
“What shall I bring you?
Please will white do
Best for your wearing
The long day through?”
“—White is for weddings,
Weddings, weddings,
White is for weddings,
And that won’t do.”
“What shall I bring you?
Please will red do
Best for your wearing
The long day through?”
“ —Red is for soldiers,
Soldiers, soldiers,
Red is for soldiers,
And that won’t do.”
“What shall I bring you?
Please will blue do
Best for your wearing
The long day through?”
“—Blue is for sailors,
Sailors, sailors,
Blue is for sailors,
And that won’t do.