IX My lips do need thy breath, My lips do need thy smile, And my pallid eyne, that light in thine Which met the stars erewhile: Yet go with light and life If that thou lovest one In all the earth who loveth thee As truly as the sun. Margret, Margret. XIV But better loveth he Thy chaliced wine than thy chanted song, And better both than thee, Margret, Margret. XVII But better loveth she Thy golden comb than thy gathered flowers, And better both than thee, Margret, Margret. XXII We brake no gold, a sign Of stronger faith to be, But I wear his last look in my soul, Which said, I love but thee! Margret, Margret. XXVI A knights bloodhound and he The funeral watch did keep; With a thought o the chase he stroked its face As it howled to see him weep. A fair child kissed the dead, But shrank before its cold. And alone yet proudly in his hall Did stand a baron of old. Margret, Margret.