For so long and so long had I forgot, Serenely busied With thousand things; at whiles desire grew hot And my soul dizzied With hapless and insatiable salt thirst. Nor was I humbled Saving with shame that, running with the worst My feet yet stumbled. Pride and delight of life enchained my heart, My heart enchanted, And oh, soft subtle fingers had their part, And eyes love-haunted. But while my busy mind was thus intent, Or thus surrendered, What was it, oh what strange thing was it sent Through all that hindered A thrill that woke the buried soul in me?-- It seemed there fluttered A thought--or was it a sudden fear?--of Thee, Remote, unuttered.
Fair Eve, as fair and still As fairest thought, climbs the high sheltering hill; As still and fair As the white cloud asleep in the deep air.
As cool, as fair and cool, As starlight swimming in a lonely pool; Subtle and mild As through her eyes the soul looks of a child.
A linnet sings and sings, A shrill swift cleaves the air with blackest wings; White twinkletails Run frankly in their meadow as day fails.
On such a night, a night That seems but the full sleep of tired light, I look and wait For what I know not, looking long and late.
Is it for a dream I look, A vision from the Tree of Heaven shook, As sweetness shaken From the fresh limes on lonely ways forsaken?
A dream of one, maybe, Who comes like sudden wind from oversea? Or most loved swallow Whom all fair days and golden musics follow?--
More sudden yet, more strange Than magic airs on magic hills that range:-- Of one who'll steep The soul in soft forgetfulness ere it sleep.
Yes, down the hillside road, Where Eve's unhasty feet so gently trod, Follow His feet Whose leaf-like echoes make even spring more sweet.
Loose me and let me go! I am not yours. I do not know Your dark name ev'n, O Powers That out of the deep rise And wave your arms To weave strange charms.
Though the snare of eyes You weave for me, As a pool lies In wait for the moon when she Out of the deep will rise; And though you set Like mist your net;
And though my feet you catch, O dark, strange Powers, You may not snatch My soul, or call it yours. Out of your snare I rise And pass your charms, Nor feel your harms.