3. Yet earth saw one thing, one how fair! 4. Hair, such a wonder of flix and floss, Freshness and fragrance-floods of it, too! Gold, did I say? Nay, gold 's mere dross : Here, Life smiled, "Think what I meant to do!" And Love sighed, "Fancy my loss!" 5. So, when she died, it was scarce more strange 6. That, while the breath was nearly to seek, And she broke forth, "I must speak!" 7. "Not my hair!" made the girl her moan"All the rest is gone or to go; But the last, last grace, my all, my own, Let it stay in the grave, that the ghosts may know! Leave my poor gold hair alone!" 8. The passion thus vented, dead lay she; 9. But curled around her brow, like a crown, To her breast, pressed flat, without a gap 10. All kissed that face, like a silver wedge Mid the yellow wealth, nor disturbed its hair; On her breast, 'twixt edge and edge. 11. And thus was she buried, inviolate In Pornic church, for her pride of race, 12. And in after-time would your fresh tear fall, 13. Years flew; this legend grew at last Of lover and friend, was summed in one 14. To wit, she was meant for Heaven, not earth; 15. At little pleasant Pornic church, It chanced, the pavement wanted repair, Was taken to pieces: left in the lurch, A certain sacred space lay bare, And the boys began research. 16. 'Twas the space where our sires would lay a saint, A benefactor,-a bishop, suppose, A baron with armour-adornments quaint, A dame with chased ring and jewelled rose, Things sanctity saves from taint; 17. So we come to find them in after-days When the corpse is presumed to have done with gauds of use to the living, in many ways: For the boys get pelf, and the town applauds, And the church deserves the praise. 18. They grubbed with a will: and at length-O cor They found no gauds they were prying for, No ring, no rose, but-who would have guessed ?---A double Louis-d'or! 19. Here was a case for the priest: he heard, Finger on nose, smiled, "A little bird Chirps in my ear:" then, "Bring a spade, Dig deeper!"—he gave the word. 20. And lo, when they came to the coffin-lid, A mint of money, it served for the nonce 21. Hid there? Why? Could the girl be wont 22. Truth is truth: too true it was. Gold! She hoarded and hugged it first, Longed for it, leaned o'er it, loved it-alas Till the humour grew to a head and burst, And she cried, at the final pass, |