Show OLD MASTERS I Home they brought her warrior dead She nor swooned nor uttered cry All her maidens watching said She must weep or she will die Then they praised him soft and low Called him worthy orthy to be loved lo Truest friend and noblest foe foel Yet she neither spoke nor moved I Stole a I maiden from her place Lightly to the warrior stepped stopped Took TOIk the face cloth from the face tace Yet she neither moved nor wept Rose a nurse of 01 ninety years ears Set his child upon her knee- knee Like the thc summer tempest came her hei tears Sweet my child I live for thee th Alfred Tennyson From The Princess |