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.