Always when Absalom returned at night,
Tired from hunting, yet adventure-filled,
'Twas Michal met him in the darkened court,
Gave him his wine and listened to his tales.
Seldom looked she at him from lowered lids
But slow spoke words of praise he learned to love.
When at bright noon he wandered in the groves
Or lay in meditation 'neath a tree
Michal would chance to meet him as she walked--
Michal, the queen, daughter of Saul was she.
David, the king, never beheld her face
Since she rebuked him; yet she never wept
For that she lived a widow while a wife--
She never spoke of those her five young sons
Whom David gave to death, nor of her house
Whose very name was seldom on men's lips
So it had fallen before David's power--Instead,
She listened to the tales of David's son,
Her white face near his eager beauteousness--
Or told him he was fair that he was strong,
The people loved him more than the King's self,
It was a grief to her he was not heir.
And while she spoke with lips that scarcely moved,
Her eyes kept watch of him 'neath lowered lids.
