What shall I your true-love tell, <br />Earth-forsaking maid? <br />What shall I your true-love tell, <br />When life's spectre's laid? <br /> <br />'Tell him that, our side the grave, <br />Maid may not conceive <br />Life should be so sad to have, <br />That's so sad to leave!' <br /> <br />What shall I your true-love tell, <br />When I come to him? <br />What shall I your true-love tell-- <br />Eyes growing dim! <br /> <br />'Tell him this, when you shall part <br />From a maiden pined; <br />That I see him with my heart, <br />Now my eyes are blind.' <br /> <br />What shall I your true-love tell? <br />Speaking-while is scant. <br />What shall I your true-love tell, <br />Death's white postulant? <br /> <br />'Tell him--love, with speech at strife, <br />For last utterance saith: <br />I, who loved with all my life, <br />Love with all my death.'<br /><br />Francis Thompson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/messages-7/
