THE NINETEENTH DAY 
 
“ The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.” 
Richard III. 
 
She dared not come into my room to-night. 
So ?  I was acquiescent, sharp despair 
And nervous purpose mixing in me there 
The while I waited :  then I glided light 
(Clad in the swart robe of an eremite) 
Across the passage and, all unaware 
My kisses underneath the veil of vair 
Woke her :  she turned and sighed and held me tight. 
 
Her child slept gently on the farther side. 
But we took danger by the throat, despised 
All but the one sole splendour that we prized ;  
And she, whose robe was far too slight to hide 
The babe-smooth breasts, was far to frail to cover 
Her heart’s true fire and music from her lover. 
 
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