It was quite dark within the room
Wherein the Lady Alice sat;
One had not seen, who looked thereat,
The gathered dust upon her loom,
There was such gloom.
And though the hangings on the wall
Were wrought so well and cunningly
That many had come far to see
Their glory once (for they were all
Of cardinal,
And gold, and silk, and curious glass)
The ladies with the long red hair
Thereon, the strong men fighting there,
The little river edged with grass,--
Were now, alas,
As if they had been always gray.
Likewise the lily, whose perfume
Had once been over all the room,
In which dark corner now it lay,--
What man might say?
She did not see these things, or know
That they had changed since she had seen.
She liked it best to sit between
Two little firs (they used to grow,
Once, long ago!)
That stood each in an earthen pot
Upon the window's either side.
They had been green before they died,
But like the rest fell out their lot,--
To be forgot.
Yet what cared she for such as these,
Whose window was toward the sun
At sun-rising? There was not one
Of them so strong and sure to please,
Or bring her ease,
As what she saw when she looked through
Her window just before the dawn.
These were the sights she gazed upon:
_Sir John, whose silken pennon flew,_
_Yellow and blue,_
_And proud to be upon his lance;_
_The horse he rode being gray and white;_
_A few men, unafraid to fight,_
_Followed (there were some men in France_
_Were brave, perchance!)_
_And they were armed with swords and spears;_
_Their horses, too, were mostly gray._
_--They seemed not sad to go away,_
_For they were men had lost their fears_
_With their child-years._
_They had such hope, there was but one_
_Looked back: Sir John had strength to look._
_His men saw not that his lance shook_
_A little, for though night was done,_
_There was no sun._
_And so they rode into the dawn_
_That waited just behind the hill;_
_(In France there were some men to kill!)_
These were the things she looked upon
Till they were gone.
* * * * *
The room was dark, and full of fear;
And so the Lady Alice stayed
Beside the window. Here she prayed
Each morning, and when night drew near,
Year after year.
Beside her lay some unused things:
A trumpet that had long been mute;
A vellum book; a little lute
That once had ten unrusted strings;
And four gold rings;
A piece of faded cloth-of-gold;
And three black pennies that were white
As silver once:--the great delight
She had of all these things of old
Was now quite cold.
Only the things that she could see
Out of the window gladdened her;
After the morning, those things were
_A ship that rode triumphantly_
(This sight would be
Plainest a little ere the noon)
_On wide blue waters, with the wind_
_Strong from the west that lay behind;_
_Its sail curved like a slender moon,_
_Born into June._
_An empty ship beside the shore_
_Of some unconquered foreign land;_
_Some brave men fighting on the sand_
_As they had never fought before_
_In any war;_
_A few men fleeing to the hills_
(This came a little after noon),
_God, but the fight was ended soon!_
_They were not hard to wound and kill!_
_A trumpet shrill_
_Echoes, and many knights pursue!_
_And on the hillside dead men lie,_
_Who learned before they came to die_
_The yellow flags the victors flew_
_Were crossed with blue!_
* * * * *
No wonder that this window-place
Could make the Lady Alice glad,
When sights like these were what she had!
Yet there was one that made her face
For a little space
Grow like a face that God has known.
I think she was the happiest
When the sun dropped into the west;
This was the thing she then was shown,
And this alone:
_A laden ship that followed fast_
_The way the setting sun had led;_
_In the east wind her great sail spread;_
_A brave knight standing near the mast;_
_The shore at last!_
Of all things, this the best did seem.
And now the gathering darkness fell;
The morn would bring him, she knew well;
She slept; and in her sleep, I deem,
She had one dream.
* * * * *
Against the window-side she slept.
This window-place was very strange;
Since it was made it had known change.
Beneath it once no women wept,
And no vines crept
And twisted in the broken glass.
Some time ago, the little tree
That she had planted tenderly
Was not much higher than tall grass;
But now, alas,
Its branches were the greatest where
Her window looked toward the sun.
One branch, indeed, its way had won
Into her room,--it did not bear
Green leaves in here.
Above the window, and inside,
Great spider-webs were spun across.
Where stone was, there was wet green moss
Wherein small creeping things did hide
Until they died.
The leaves that looked toward the room
Were hardly anything but veins;
They had been wasted by the rains,
Like some dead naked girl in the gloom
Of some old tomb.
But those outside were broad and green,
And lived between the sun and shade.
A perfect bower they had made,--
Beneath them there should sit some queen,
Born to be seen!
* * * * *
It was quite dark within the place
Wherein the Lady Alice slept.
I heard the girls below who wept,
But God did not (of His good grace)
Show me her face.