The Poetry Corner

Mistress Fell

By Walter De La Mare

"Whom seek you here, sweet Mistress Fell?" "One who loved me passing well. Dark his eye, wild his face - Stranger, if in this lonely place Bide such an one, then, prythee, say I am come here to-day." "Many his like, Mistress Fell?" "I did not look, so cannot tell. Only this I surely know, When his voice called me, I must go; Touched me his fingers, and my heart Leapt at the sweet pain's smart." "Why did he leave you, Mistress Fell?" "Magic laid its dreary spell. - Stranger, he was fast asleep; Into his dream I tried to creep; Called his name, soft was my cry; He answered - not one sigh. "The flower and the thorn are here; Falleth the night-dew, cold and clear; Out of her bower the bird replies, Mocking the dark with ecstasies, See how the earth's green grass doth grow, Praising what sleeps below! "Thus have they told me. And I come, As flies the wounded wild-bird home. Not tears I give; but all that he Clasped in his arms, sweet charity; All that he loved - to him I bring For a close whispering."