Him-seemed he heard a voice he knew -
Or a dream of while agone.
Him-seemed bright raiment towards him drew -
Or bright the sun-set shone.


She stood before him face to face,
With the sun-beam thwart her hand,
As on the gold of the Holy Place
The painted angels stand.

With many a kiss she closed his eyes;
She kissed him cheek and chin:
E'en so in the painted Paradise
Are Earth's folk welcomed in.

There in the door the green-coats stood,
O'er the bows went up the cry,
"O welcome, Rafe, to the free green-wood,
With us to live and die."

It was bill and bow by the high-seat stood,
And they cried above the bows,
"Now welcome, Rafe, to the good green-wood,
And welcome Kate the Rose!"


White, white in the moon is the woodland plash,
White is the woodland glade,
Forth wend those twain, from oak to ash,