XXIX.
Colder grow my hands and feet. When I wear the shroud I made, Let the folds lie straight and neat, And the rosemary be spread, That if any friend should come, (To see _thee_, Sweet!) all the room May be lifted out of gloom.
Colder grow my hands and feet. When I wear the shroud I made, Let the folds lie straight and neat, And the rosemary be spread, That if any friend should come, (To see _thee_, Sweet!) all the room May be lifted out of gloom.