Love from the North

by Christina Rossetti

I had a love in soft south land,
   Beloved through April far in May;
He waited on my lightest breath,
   And never dared to say me nay.

He saddened if my cheer was sad,
   But gay he grew if I was gay;
We never differed on a hair,
   My yes his yes, my nay his nay.

The wedding hour was come, the aisles
   Were flushed with sun and flowers that day;
I pacing balanced in my thoughts, —
   “It's quite too late to think of nay.” —

My bridegroom answered in his turn,
   Myself had almost answered “yea”:
When through the flashing nave I heard.
   A struggle and resounding “nay.”

Bridemaids and bridegroom shrank in fear,
   But I stood high who stood at bay:
“And if I answer yea, fair Sir,
   What man art thou to bar with nay?”

He was a strong man from the north,
   Light-locked, with eyes of dangerous gray:
“Put yea by for another time
   In which I will not say thee nay.”

He took me in his strong white arms,
   He bore me on his horse away
O’er crag, morass, and hair-breadth pass,
   But never asked me yea or nay.

He made me fast with book and bell,
   With links of love he makes me stay;
Till now I’ve neither heart nor power
   Nor will nor wish to say him nay.