OH, come again to Astolat!
I will not ask you to be kind.
And you may go when you will go, And I will stay behind.
I will not say how dear you are, Or ask you if you hold me dear, Or trouble you with things for you The way I did last year.
So still the orchard, Lancelot, So very still the lake shall be, You could not guess--though you should guess--
What is become of me.
So wide shall be the garden-walk, The garden-seat so very wide, You needs must think--if you should think--
The lily maid had died.
Save that, a little way away, I'd watch you for a little while, To see you speak, the way you speak, And smile,--if you should smile.
