Sir Geoffrey met the white lady Upon his marriage morn, Her eyes were blue as cornflowers are, Her hair was gold like corn.
Sir Geoffrey gave the white lady A posy of roses seven, “You are the fairest May,” said he, “That ever strayed from Heaven.”
Sir Geoffrey by the white lady Was lured away to shame, For seven long years of prayers and tears No tidings of him came.
Then she who should have been his bride A mighty oath she swore, “For seven long years I have wept and prayed, Now I will pray no more.
“Since God and all the saints of Heaven Bring not my lord to me, I will go down myself to hell And bring him back,” said she.
She crept to the white lady’ s bower, The taper’ s flame was dim, And there Sir Geoffrey lay asleep, And the white witch sat by him.
Her arm was laid across his neck, Her gold hair on his face, And there was silence in the room As in a burial-place.
And there were gems and carven cups, And’ broidered bridal gear — “Whose bridal is this?” the lady said, “And what knight have ye here?”
“The good knight here ye know full well, He was your lord, I trow, But I have taken him from your side, And I am his lady now.
“This seven year with right good cheer We twain our bridal keep, So take for your mate another knight And let my dear lord sleep.”
Then up and spake Sir Geoffrey’ s bride, “What bridal cheer is this? I would think scorn to have the lips Who could not have the kiss!
“I would think scorn to take the half Who could not have the whole; I would think scorn to steal the body Who could not take the soul!
“For, though ye hold his body fast This seven weary year, His soul walks ever at my side And whispers in my ear.
“I would think scorn to hold in sleep What, if it waked, would flee, So let his body join his soul And both fare forth with me;
“For I have learned a spell more strong Than yours that laid him low, And I will speak it for his sake Because I love him so!”
The white lady threw back her hair, Her eyes began to shine — “His soul is thine these seven years?— To-night it shall be mine!
“I have been brave to hold him here While seven long years befell, Rather than let a bridal be Whose seed should flower in hell.
“I have not looked into his eyes Nor joined my lips to his, For fear his soul should spring to flame And shrivel at my kiss.
“I have been brave to watch his sleep While the long hours come and go, To hold the body without the soul, Because I love him so.
“But since his soul this seven year Has sat by thee,” she said, “His body and soul to-night shall lie Upon my golden bed.
“Thou hast no need to speak the spell That thou hast learned,” said she, “For I will wake him from his sleep And take his soul from thee.”
She stooped above him where he lay, She laid her lips on his; He stirred, he spake: “These seven long years I have waited for thy kiss.
“My soul has hung upon thy lips And trembled at thy breath, Thou hast given me life in a cup to drink, As God will give me death.
“Why didst thou fear to kill my soul Which only lives for thee? Thou hast put seven wasted years, O love,’ twixt thee and me.”
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