VIII.
Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling, But the tears ran over lightly from her eyes and tenderly:-- "Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me? Is no woman far above me Found more worthy of thy poet-heart than such a one as _I_?"
Ever, evermore the while in a slow silence she kept smiling, But the tears ran over lightly from her eyes and tenderly:-- "Dost thou, Bertram, truly love me? Is no woman far above me Found more worthy of thy poet-heart than such a one as _I_?"