Classic Poem

H UGO , A GATHA , O RION , T HURSTON , and armed attendants, riding slowly . Agatha:

Sir Knight, what makes you so grave and glum?
At times I fear you are deaf or dumb,
Or both. Hugo:

And yet, should I speak the truth,
There is little in common 'twixt us, forsooth;
You would think me duller, and still more vain,
If I uttered the thoughts that fill my brain;
Since the matters with which my mind is laden
Would scarcely serve to amuse a maiden. Agatha:

I am so foolish and you are so wise,
'Tis the meaning your words so ill disguise.
Alas! my prospects are sad enough:
I had rather listen to speeches rough,
Than muse and meditate silently
On the coming loss of my liberty.
Sad hope to me can my future bring,
Yet, while I may, I would prattle and sing,
Though it only were to try and assuage
The dreariness of my pilgrimage. Hugo:

Prattle and sing to your heart's content,
And none will offer impediment. Agatha (sings):

We were playmates in childhood, my sister and I,
 Whose playtime with childhood is done;
Through thickets where briar and bramble grew high,
 Barefooted I've oft seen her run.
I've known her, when mists on the moorland hung white,
 Bareheaded past nightfall remain;
She has followed a landless and penniless knight,
 Through battles and sieges in Spain.
But I pulled the flower, and shrank from the thorn,
 Sought the sunshine, and fled from the mist;
My sister was born to face hardship with scorn—
 I was born to be fondled and kiss'd. Hugo (aside):

She has a sweet voice. Orion:

And a sweet face, too—
Be candid for once, and give her her due. Agatha.

Your face grows longer, and still more long,
Sir Scholar! how did you like my song? Hugo:

I thought it rather a silly one. Agatha:

You are far from a pleasant companion.