IT is growing dark.
At such a sunset I have been with Saul—
But saw it not. I only saw his eyes
And the wild beauty of his roaming locks,
And—oh! there never was a man like Saul!
Strong arm, and gentle heart and tender ways
To win a woman's very soul, were his.
When he would take my hand and look on me,
And whisper "Rizpah"—ah! those days are gone!
Why should I weep? was I not loved by Saul?