&nbsp We sat in the room
       &nbsp And praised her whom
We saw in the portico-shade outside:
       &nbsp She could not hear
       &nbsp What was said of her,
But smiled, for its purport we did not hide.

       &nbsp Then in was brought
       &nbsp That message, fraught
With evil fortune for her out there,
       &nbsp Whom we loved that day
       &nbsp More than any could say,
And would fain have fenced from a waft of care.

       &nbsp And the question pressed
       &nbsp Like lead on each breast,
Should we cloak the tidings, or call her and tell?
       &nbsp It was too intense
       &nbsp A choice for our sense,
As we pondered and watched her we loved so well.

       &nbsp Yea, spirit failed us
       &nbsp At what assailed us;
How long, while seeing what soon must come,
       &nbsp Should we counterfeit
       &nbsp No knowledge of it,
And stay the stroke that would blanch and numb?
       &nbsp And thus, before
       &nbsp For evermore
Joy left her, we practised to beguile
       &nbsp Her innocence when
       &nbsp She now and again
Looked in, and smiled us another smile.