Part 9 (2/2)

Night held her breath, it seemed, with all her stars: Eternal eyes that watched in mute compa.s.sion Our little lives o'erleap their mortal bars, Fused in the fulness of immortal pa.s.sion, A pa.s.sion as immortal as the stars.

There was no longer any thee or me; No sense of self, no wish or incompleteness; The moment, rounded to Eternity, Annihilated time's destructive fleetness: For all but love itself had ceased to be.

III.

I am athirst, but not for wine; The drink I long for is divine, Poured only from your eyes in mine.

I hunger, but the bread I want, Of which my blood and brain are scant, Is your sweet speech, for which I pant.

I am a-cold, and lagging lame, Life creeps along my languid frame; Your love would fan it into flame.

Heaven's in that little word--your love!

It makes my heart coo like a dove, My tears fall as I think thereof.

IV.

I would I were the glow-worm, thou the flower, That I might fill thy cup with glimmering light; I would I were the bird, and thou the bower, To sing thee songs throughout the summer night.

I would I were a pine tree deeply rooted, And thou the lofty, cloud-beleaguered rock, Still, while the blasts of heaven around us hooted, To cleave to thee and weather every shock.

I would I were the rill, and thou the river; So might I, leaping from some headlong steep, With all my waters lost in thine for ever, Be hurried onwards to the unfathomed deep.

I would--what would I not? O foolish dreaming!

My words are but as leaves by autumn shed, That, in the faded moonlight idly gleaming, Drop on the grave where all our love lies dead.

V.

Dost thou remember ever, for my sake, When we two rowed upon the rock-bound lake?

How the wind-fretted waters blew their spray About our brows like blossom-falls of May One memorable day?

Dost thou remember the glad mouth that cried-- ”Were it not sweet to die now side by side, To lie together tangled in the deep Close as the heart-beat to the heart--so keep The everlasting sleep?”

Dost thou remember? Ah, such death as this Had set the seal upon my heart's young bliss!

But, wrenched asunder, severed and apart, Life knew a deadlier death: the blighting smart Which only kills the heart.

VI.

O moon, large golden summer moon, Hanging between the linden trees, Which in the intermittent breeze Beat with the rhythmic pulse of June!

O night-air, scented through and through With honey-coloured flower of lime, Sweet now as in that other time When all my heart was sweet as you!

The sorcery of this breathing bloom Works like enchantment in my brain, Till, shuddering back to life again, My dead self rises from its tomb.

And, lovely with the love of yore, Its white ghost haunts the moon-white ways; But, when it meets me face to face, Flies trembling to the grave once more.

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