But soft, she walks in tenured pride,
‘ere softer still, where angels cried;
as soft as silken folds of spread,
how sweet her dreams, how soft her bed.
But soft, she waits for shuddered moon,
‘ere softer still, her heart does swoon;
as soft as moonlight o’er her form,
how sweet her gaze, how soft her warm.
But soft, yon suitor comes to call,
‘ere softer still, her guard may fall;
as soft as he with words of old,
how sweet his tongue, how soft her bold.
But soft, she trembles to his reigns,
‘ere softer still, her heart remains;
as soft as she would sway to him,
how sweet his words, how soft her whim.
But soft, somewhere amid the night,
‘ere softer still, their fires ignite;
as soft as sky when summers came,
how sweet his vow, how soft her name.
But soft, his life is quickly spent,
‘ere softer still, her heart was lent;
as soft as air, her shuddered sighs,
how sweet his leave, how soft her cries.
But soft, she sleeps ’til dawn brings sun,
‘ere softer still, her life is done;
as soft as love, her heart does rend,
how sweet her death, how soft her end.