Explore "Elaine and Elaine" by Elizabeth Stuart Phelps Ward on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I. Dead, she drifted to his feet. / Tell us, Love, is Death so sweet?
Oh! the river floweth deep. / Fathoms deeper is her sleep.
Oh! the current driveth strong. / Wilder tides drive souls along.
Drifting, though he loved her not, / To the heart of Launcelot,
Let her pass; it is her place. / Death hath given her this grace.
Let her pass; she resteth well. / What her dreams are, who can tell?
Mute the steersman; why, if he / Speaketh not a word, should we?
II. Dead, she drifteth to his feet. / Close, her eyes keep secrets sweet.
Living, he had loved her well. / High as Heaven and deep as Hell.
Yet that voyage she stayeth not. / Wait you for her, Launcelot?
Oh! the river floweth fast. / Who is justified at last?
Locked her lips are. Hush! If she / Sayeth nothing, how should we?