And then I understood Why, all the waiting through, The green had seemed so green, The blue had seemed so blue, The song of bird and stream Had been so passing sweet, For all the coming not Of her forgetful feet; And how my heart was tranced, For all its lonely ache, Gazing on mirrored rushes Sky-deep in the lake. Said Beauty: "_Me_ you love, You love her for my sake."
Thou shall not me persuade This love of ours Can in a moment fade, Like summer flowers;
That a swift word or two, In angry haste, Our heaven shall undo, Our hearts lay waste.
For a poor flash of pride, A cold word spoken, Love shall not be denied, Or long troth broken.
Yea; wilt thou not relent? Be mine the wrong, No more the argument, Dear love, prolong.
The summer days go by, Cease that sweet rain, Those angry crystals dry, Be friends again.
So short a time at best Is ours to play, Come, take me to thy breast-- Ah! that's the way.
Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet, That have so little of mine own to bring? That thou art beautiful from head to feet-- Is that, beloved, such a little thing, That I should ask more of thee, and should fling Thy largesse from me, in a world like this, O generous giver of thy perfect kiss?
Thou gavest me thy lips, thine eyes, thine hair; I brought thee worship--was it not thy due? If thou art cruel--still art thou not fair? Roses thou gavest--shalt thou not bring rue? Alas! have I not brought thee sorrow too? How dare I face the future and its drouth, Missing that golden honeycomb thy mouth?
Kiss and make up--'tis the wise ancient way; Back to my arms, O bountiful deep breast! No more of words that know not what they say; To kiss is wisdom--folly all the rest. Dear loveliness so mercifully pressed Against my heart--I shake with sudden fear To think--to losing thee I came so near.
Shadows! the only shadows that I know Are happy shadows of the light of you, The radiance immortal shining through Your sea-deep eyes up from the soul below; Your shadow, like a rose's, on the grass Where your feet pass.
The shadow of the dimple in your chin, The shadow of the lashes of your eyes, As on your cheek, soft as a moth, it lies; And, as a church, I softly enter in The solemn twilight of your mighty hair, Down falling there.