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1865–1940

IX

Laurence Alma-Tadema

Yes, love me, love me well. You need not fear To hurt me further. Like a careless knight That riding lonely, with averted sight, Has struck a passer unawares, so here

Have you struck me amid the branches sere Of this dark forest. If you now alight, Give water to my lips and through the night Keep peril from me, with the morning's clear

New dawn I'll rise again, and both will reap The mercy of the wound you dealt. Asleep, Awake, I'll be your shield-bearer, and guard Your steps upon this road so long and hard.

Then help us both, for all the love you give But turns to strength whereby we both may live.

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IX · Laurence Alma-Tadema · Poetry Cove