@3The Damozels@1 LADY ALICE, Lady Louise, Between the wash of the tumbling seas We are ready to sing, if so ye please: So lay your long hands on the keys; Sing "@3Laudate pueri.@1" @3And ever the great bell overhead Boom'd in the wind a knell for the dead, Though no one toll'd it, a knell for the dead.@1 @3Lady Louise@1 Sister, let the measure swell Not too loud; for you sing not well If you drown the faint boom of the bell; He is weary, so am I. @3And ever the chevron overhead Flapp'd on the banner of the dead; (Was he asleep, or was he dead?)@1 @3Lady Alice@1 Alice the Queen, and Louise the Queen, Two damozels wearing purple and green, Four lone ladies dwelling here From day to day and year to year: And there is none to let us go; To break the locks of the doors below, Or shovel away the heap'd-up snow; And when we die no man will know That we are dead; but they give us leave, Once every year on Christmas-eve, To sing in the Closet Blue one song: And we should be so long, so long, If we dar'd, in singing; for, dream on dream, They float on in a happy stream; Float from the gold strings, float from the keys, Float from the open'd lips of Louise: But, alas! the sea-salt oozes through The chinks of the tiles of the Closet Blue; @3And ever the great bell overhead Booms in the wind a knell for the dead, The wind plays on it a knell for the dead.@1 (@3They sing all together:@1) How long ago was it, how long ago, He came to this tower with hands full of snow? "Kneel down, O love Louise, kneel down," he said, And sprinkled the dusty snow over my head. He watch'd the snow melting, it ran through my hair, Ran over my shoulders, white shoulders and bare. "I cannot weep for thee, poor love Louise, For my tears are all hidden deep under the seas; "In a gold and blue casket she keeps all my tears, But my eyes are no longer blue, as in old years; "Yea, they grow gray with time, grow small and dry, I am so feeble now, would I might die." @3And in truth the great bell overhead Left off his pealing for the dead, Perchance because the wind was dead.@1 Will he come back again, or is he dead? O! is he sleeping, my scarf round his head? Or did they strangle him as he lay there, With the long scarlet scarf I used to wear? Only I pray thee, Lord, let him come here! Both his soul and his body to me are most dear. Dear Lord, that loves me, I wait to receive Either body or spirit this wild Christmaseve. @3Through the floor shot up a lily red, With a patch of earth from the land of the dead, For he was strong in the land of the dead.@1 What matter that his cheeks were pale, His kind kiss'd lips all gray? "O, love Louise, have you waited long?" "O, my lord Arthur, yea." What if his hair that brush'd her cheek Was stiff with frozen rime? His eyes were grown quite blue again, As in the happy time. "O, love Louise, this is the key Of the happy golden land! O, sisters, cross the bridge with me, My eyes are full of sand. What matter that I cannot see If ye take me by the hand?" @3And ever the great bell overhead And the tumbling seas mourn'd for the dead; For their song ceased, and they were dead.@1 | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CHILD'S PET by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES SONNET: 25 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE IN THE ROOM by JAMES THOMSON (1834-1882) THE BRAES O' BALLOCHMYLE by ROBERT BURNS ON THE BIRTH OF JOHN WILLIAM RIZZO HOPPNER by GEORGE GORDON BYRON LINES ON MY NEW CHILD SWEETHEART by THOMAS CAMPBELL |