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The Book of Odes, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908], at sacred-texts.com
When the great carriage rumbles by,
I see him in his robes of state,
Calm, pitiless, sedate.
Man of the cold far-piercing eye,
O but I long for you,
Right for you, wrong for you,
Naught could keep us apart,
But the cold eye reading my heart.
When the great carriage rumbles on,
In robes of state carnation red
I see the man of dread,
Bright gleaming robes and glance of stone,
O then I long for you,
Right for you, wrong for you,
Naught could keep us apart
But the cold eye reading my heart.
Together we may never bide,
Nor you and me one roof contain,
But death shall not divide;
The same close grave shall wed the twain.
Say! am I cold to you?
Nay! I will hold to you,
By the bright sun I swear,
O my life, my love, my despair.