Kristin's Song

Poor, my dear,

Here at the last,

Thy follies overpast,

Here on this breast,

Though riven it thou hast,

Shed thy last tear...

Lie down and rest.

Knowest thou not

What vows were said

With quivering maidenhead?

Spirit it was, 'twas taken:

No bridegroom, no bride-bed,

No strain, no blot

That vow has shaken.

Still thy fear;

There is no haste,

Thou chastened and I chaste...

Death may the cleric be

Whose sacrament to taste

Whose wine so clear

Binds thee to me.

Structure

21 lines · 3 stanzas