The Rival

 I so loved once, when Death came by I hid 
 Away my face, 
And all my sweetheart's tresses she undid 
 To make my hiding-place.
 

The dread shade passed me thus unheeding; and 
 I turned me then 
To calm my love -- kiss down her shielding hand 
 And comfort her again.
 

And lo! she answered not: and she did sit 
 All fixedly, 
With her fair face and the sweet smile of it, 
 In love with Death, not me.

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