Part 21 (1/2)

2

When I embrace her in a fragrant shrine Of climbing roses, my first kiss shall fall On you, sweet eyes, that mutely told me all,-- Through you my soul will rise to make her mine.

Upon your drooping lids, blue-veined and fair, The touch of tenderness I first will lay, You springs of joy, lights of my gloomy day, Whose dear discovered secret bade me dare!

And when you open, eyes of my fond dove, Your look will s.h.i.+ne with new delight, made sure By this forerunner of a faithful love.

Tis just, dear eyes, so pensive and so pure, That you should bear the sealing kisses true Of love unhoped that came to me through you.

3

This was my thought; but when beneath the rose That hides the lonely bench where lovers rest, In friendly dusk I held her on my breast For one brief moment,--while I saw you close, Dear, yielding eyes, as if your lids, blue-veined And pure, were meekly fain at last to bear The proffered homage of my wistful prayer,-- In that high moment, by your grace obtained,

Forgetting your avowals, your alarms, Your anguish and your tears, sweet weary eyes, Forgetting that you gave her to my arms, I broke my promise; and my first caress, Ungrateful, sought her lips in sweet surprise,-- Her lips, which breathed a word of tenderness!

VII

AN EVOCATION

When first upon my brow I felt your kiss, A sudden splendour filled me, like the ray That promptly runs to crown the hills with bliss Of purple dawn before the golden day, And ends the gloom it crosses at one leap.

My brow was not unworthy your caress; For some foreboding joy had bade me keep From all affront the place your lips would bless.

Yet when your mouth upon my mouth did lay The royal touch, no rapture made me thrill, But I remained confused, ashamed, and still.

Beneath your kiss, my queen without a stain, I felt,--like ghosts who rise at Judgment Day,-- A throng of ancient kisses vile and vain!

VIII

RESIGNATION

1

Well, you will triumph, dear and n.o.ble friend!

The holy love that wounded you so deep Will bring you balm, and on your heart asleep The fragrant dew of healing will descend.

Your children,--ah, how quickly they will grow Between us, like a wall that fronts the sun, Lifting a screen with rosy buds o'errun, To hide the shaded path where I must go.

You'll walk in light; and dreaming less and less Of him who droops in gloom beyond the wall, Your mother-soul will fill with happiness When first you hear your grandchild's babbling call, Beneath the braided bloom of flower and leaf That We has wrought to veil your vanished grief.

2

Then I alone shall suffer! I shall bear The double burden of our grief alone, While I enlarge my soul to take your share Of pain and hold it close beside my own.

Our love is torn asunder; but the crown Of thorns that love has woven I will make My relic sacrosanct, and press it down Upon my bleeding heart that will not break.

Ah, that will be the depth of solitude!

For my regret, that evermore endures, Will know that new-born hope has conquered yours; And when the evening comes, no gentle brood Of wondering children, gathered at my side, Will soothe away the tears I cannot hide.

_Freely rendered from the French_, 1911.