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Francis Thompson - Messages
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  What shall I your true-love tell,
    Earth-forsaking maid?
  What shall I your true-love tell,
    When life`s spectre`s laid?

  "Tell him that, our side the grave,
    Maid may not conceive
  Life should be so sad to have,
    That`s so sad to leave!"

  What shall I your true-love tell,
    When I come to him?
  What shall I your true-love tell--
    Eyes growing dim!

  "Tell him this, when you shall part
    From a maiden pined;
  That I see him with my heart,
    Now my eyes are blind."

  What shall I your true-love tell?
    Speaking-while is scant.
  What shall I your true-love tell,
    Death`s white postulant?

  "Tell him--love, with speech at strife,
    For last utterance saith:
  I, who loved with all my life,
    Love with all my death."
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