Love, are you by me! Malva, what think you this meaneth?
Love, do you see the fine folk as they move over there?
Are they immortals? Look you a wingèd one leaneth
Down from yon pine to the river of us unaware.

All unaware; and the country is full of voices,
Mild strangers passing: they reck not of me nor of thee.
List! about and around us wondrous sweet noises,
Laughter of little children and maids that dreaming be.

Love, I can see their dreams.' A dim smile flitteth
Over her lips, and they move as in peace supreme,
And a small thing, silky haired, beside her sitteth,
'O this is thy dream atween us--this is thy dream.'

Was it then truly his dream with her dream that blended?
'Speak, dear child dear,' quoth the queen, 'and mine own little son.'
'Father,' the small thing murmurs; then all is ended,
He starts from that passion of peace--ay, the dream is done.


XXVIII.

'I have been in a good land,'
Quoth the king: 'O sweet sleep bland,
Blessed! I am grown to more,
Now the doing of right hath moved
Me to love of right, and proved
If one doth it, he shall be