OH, come again to Astolat!
    I will not ask you to be kind.
And you may go when you will go,
    And I will stay behind.

I will not say how dear you are,
    Or ask you if you hold me dear,
Or trouble you with things for you
    The way I did last year.

So still the orchard, Lancelot,
    So very still the lake shall be,
You could not guess--though you should guess--
    What is become of me.

So wide shall be the garden-walk,
    The garden-seat so very wide,
You needs must think--if you should think--
    The lily maid had died.

Save that, a little way away,
    I'd watch you for a little while,
To see you speak, the way you speak,
    And smile,--if you should smile.