r way to the gate, singing to herself)_.
As a wind that has run all day
Among the fragrant clover,
At evening to a valley comes;
So comes to me my lover.

And as all night a honey'd warmth
Stays where the wind did lie,
So when my lover leaves my arms
My heart's all honey.

But what have I to do with this? And when
Was that song put in hiding 'mid my thought?
I might be on my way to meet and give
Good morrow to my--Ah! last night, last night!
O fie! I must not dream so.

[_At the Gate_.
It _was_ I!
I am the girl whose lover they have killed,
Who never saw him until out of death
He lookt into my soul. I was to meet
Somewhere in life my lover, and behold,
He has turned into an inn I dare not enter,
And gazes through a window at my soul
Going on labour'd with this loving body.--
Did I not sleep last night with you in my arms?
I could have sworn it. Why should body have
So large a part in love? For if 'twere only
Spirit knew how to love, an easy road
My feet had down to death. But I must want
Lips against mine, and arms marrying me,
And breast to kiss with its dear warmth my breast,--
Body must love! O me, how it must ache
Before it is as numb as thine, dear boy!
Poor darling, didst thou forget that I was made
To wed thee, body and soul? For surely else
Thou hadst not gone from life.--
Ah, folk already,
Coming to curse the light with all their stares.

V

KATRINA _and_ JEAN.

_Katrina_.
Where are you off to, Jean, in such a tear?

_Jean_.
I'm busy.

_Katrina_.
O you light-skirts! who is it now?
You think I can't guess what your business is?
Is it aught fresh, or only old stuff warmed?

_Jean_.
Does not the smartness in your wits, Katrina,
Make your food smack sourly?--Well, this time,
It's serious with me. I believe I'm caught.

_Katrina_.
O but you've had such practice in being caught,
You'll break away quite easily when you want.
Tell me now who it is.

_Jean_.
The man who spoke
When we were at the Scottish Gate that day.
O, he's a dapper boy! Did you mark his eyes?

_Katrina_.
Nay, I saw nought but he was under-grown.

_Jean_.
Pooh! He can carry me.

_Katrina_.
Jean, have you heard
Of Mary lately?--I vow she's in love.

_Jean_.
Never! with whom?

_Katrina_.
The thing's a wonder, Jean.
She'll speak to no one now, and every day,
Morning and evening, she's at the gate
Gazing like a fey creature on that head
She