The Tune of Seven Towers

No one goes there now:
For what is left to fetch away
From the desolate battlements all arow,
And the lead roof heavy and grey?
_Therefore, said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

No one walks there now;
Except in the white moonlight
The white ghosts walk in a row;
If one could see it, an awful sight,
_Listen! said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

But none can see them now,
Though they sit by the side of the moat,
Feet half in the water, there in a row,
Long hair in the wind afloat.
_Therefore, said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

If any will go to it now,
He must go to it all alone,
Its gates will not open to any row
Of glittering spears: will you go alone?
_Listen! said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

By my love go there now,
To fetch me my coif away,
My coif and my kirtle, with pearls arow,
Oliver, go to-day!
_Therefore, said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

I am unhappy now,
I cannot tell you why;
If you go, the priests and I in a row
Will pray that you may not die.
_Listen! said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._

If you will go for me now,
I will kiss your mouth at last;
[She sayeth inwardly.]
(The graves stand grey in a row.)
Oliver, hold me fast!
_Therefore, said fair Yoland of the flowers,
This is the tune of Seven Towers._