University of Virginia Library

II
LOVE

[I
O sea, nature's eternal palimpsest,]

O sea, nature's eternal palimpsest,
O stars that dawn, as memories one by one
Break on the dark void of oblivion,
O poem of love that fills the fragile nest,—
Whisper to me! Stir me to great unrest,
O passionate chaunt! Immortal antiphon,
Proud pæan of life that peals from sun to sun,
From flower to flower, from human breast to breast,
Sound in my soul! and thou, O heart, resound,
O lips, proclaim! for where her lips have clung
There must the lyric pulse beat tense and strong;
And where she lives with love must life abound
With music unimagined and unsung
To mend Truth's ravelled tapestry of song!

[II
She is the sea's star-smitten amethyst;]

She is the sea's star-smitten amethyst;
She is the light of long, incredible
Sunsets; she is the myth and miracle
Of love and Love is life's protagonist.
She is the soul and tragic heart of youth;
She is the dreams and raptures that foretell,
In legend, lyric, poem and parable,
The spacious and supreme vision of Truth.
In life's last desolation and distress
She is the touch that sets the Door ajar;
She is the peace, she is the passionless
Chill wonder of the Night's infinite breath;
She is the nameless light, the mystic star
In the illimitable skies of Death.

[III
Thunder, like thunder of the wind-scourged sea,]

Thunder, like thunder of the wind-scourged sea,
Of shouting multitudes and smitten lyres,
The perfumed smoke of sacrificial fires,
The palm, the pæan, and the ecstasy
That once confessed thy deep divinity
Are gone: the music fails, the rapture tires,—
But still heart burns, soul reaches, sense desires
For thee, only for thee and all for thee!
For thou art She, indubitably She,
The dear dream-woman, fatal and unknown,
Lilith and Helen and Eurydice;
And for thy sake man laughed at God's decree,
And brought the haughty towers of Ilium down,
And trod the pits of Hell because of thee.

[IV
Her soul is free from Time's fantastic trance:]

Her soul is free from Time's fantastic trance:
No infidelity has vexed her eyes
Where burns the light of spiritual skies
Deep and unshaken by the winds of chance.
Her beauty gives a new significance
To life, and new desires and dignities,
And exaltation of new stars that rise
Over the dark ways of deliverance.
Love is her captive and her minister;
The golden shadow of the wings of love
Lies warm and tranquil on her naked breast:
She is the World's Desire, the shrine whereof
Life is the pilgrim, and in quest of her
All men have striven and suffered without rest!

[V
Her days are like the white processional]

Her days are like the white processional
Of sacred virgins who, transfused with bliss,
Moved round the altars of Hermopolis
With equal pace and measured interval.
For, like the God of Gods, possessed of all
The mighty meaning of the Mysteries,
She over-sees the endless theories
Of Time from summits clear and spiritual.
And I, beside her shrine, with bated breath,
Far in her eyes' profound horizons see
Ever the pulse, the ebb, the upward roll
Of light,—the day of life, the night of death,
Passing beneath the altars whence her soul
Watches in undisturbed divinity.

[VI
Her hair is hued like shadow where light is]

Her hair is hued like shadow where light is
Tragic and tense and tranquil, and her eyes
Burn in their depths the splendour of such skies
As sunset kindled over Naukratis.
It may be, when the walls and towers of This
Stood in magnificence and rang with cries
Of myriads in their flashing panoplies,
She shone with the Immortals—God! we miss
The secret of life's lost divinity!
The days, like Sphinxes, one by one repeat
Their silent question and devour us!
How shall we learn the answer? How shall we
Scathless endure the sacred flame that beat
And brake the desperate wings of Icarus?

[VII
I give my whole life for her dwelling-place]

I give my whole life for her dwelling-place,
And all my days are mansions made for her,
And all my heart is like a harp-player
Singing with eyes insatiate of her face.
And she, for the same love's sake, in the trace
Of my dark journey follows everywhere,
And from the labour of truth and the despair
She can console me in her deep embrace.
For Love has made her body of his delight
And of his sacred frenzy, and his light
Is calm and ardent in her perfect eyes;
And Love has shared his faith and liberty
Between us, who are blent inseparably
In the communion of his mysteries.

[VIII
She moulded life, with hands subtle and wise,]

She moulded life, with hands subtle and wise,
Into the faultless fashion of a vase
Carved as of emerald or chrysoprase,
And bossed with mythic shapes of Paradise.
And brimmed it was with fire of sunset skies,
And deep sea-amethyst, and crystalline,
Calm starlight, all distilled into a wine
Clear and perturbed with splendour like her eyes.
And, as we slaked the thirst that gave no rest
By day or night, with solemn ecstasy
We knew such vineyards of the soul were pressed
To yield this very heart's-blood of our love,
That from our hands the cup, once drained thereof,
Must fall and shatter irretrievably.

[IX
That day of the innumerable days]

That day of the innumerable days
Was like a gate set open secretly,
Where the swift sense of immortality
Drave us from Time's interminable ways.
Clear as a song's inviolable phrase,
Tender as sunset on a windless sea,
Our sudden hearts yielded ineffably,
Our eyes drank deep of Truth's eternal rays.
We saw how blind and aimless on and on
Time journeys, while the ripened harvests stand
Of Truth and Liberty on either hand;
And so we reaped and made the sacred bread
And poured the wine of Love's communion:
And there that day the starving soul was fed.

[X
In the shadow and glamour of the ways]

In the shadow and glamour of the ways,
With a passion more mighty than we were,
With the strength of desire, we followed where
We found Love's light that leads and never stays.
And yet not thus, alone for what repays
The passion that is life for best and worst,
The desire that is hunger, that is thirst,
We wrought Love's labour of all our nights and days.
Nay, not alone the great hilarity
Of Love's brimmed cup and Life's high festival
Gave us good warrant of the quest: thereof
Were we resolved, because, for one and all
Of Love's true partisans, we seemed to see
The Truth alive in the deep heart of Love!

[XI
My lips were bruised against her lips, my eyes]

My lips were bruised against her lips, my eyes
Drowned in her eyes as in a star-lit sea;
My life sang brokenly to her, and she
Trembled with inarticulate replies.
I felt the rapture that in Paradise
Woke in their hearts, who, heedless of the cost,
Yielded to love; like waters tempest-tossed,
I felt her breast beneath me fall and rise.
And when at last our hands and eyes and lips
Severed, still, deep in life's undying heart,
We felt the birth of poems, the springs of song;
And saw, by winds of music borne along,
Our souls go forth on love's high seas, like ships
Making Truth's voyage without helm or chart.

[XII
Her breast is perfumed and profound as sleep]

Her breast is perfumed and profound as sleep;
Her fervent, mythic face is clear and fair
And pale as light; thro' all her sombre hair
The tragic splendours of the sunset creep.
And now for me her soul and senses keep
Incessant vigil, and because we share
The journey she will neither ask nor care
Whether the ways of love be smooth or steep.
Her eyes that watch for mine are starred and strange
As tho' there lightened on her inward sight
New vistas of the soul's unfettered range;
As tho' she saw, across the passive night,
On far horizons of the seas of change,
By Love's decree made manifest, the Light!

[XIII
We shared the silent faith and truth of things]

We shared the silent faith and truth of things!
Her life seemed all in all to sing to me,
And mine replied in clear antiphony,
Wild as the music of wind-smitten strings.
Hers was the mood of one who subtly sings
In low, long sunsets by a windless sea;
Far in her languid eyes I seemed to see
The flash of unimagined lightenings.
And when against her breast I felt the core
Of life grow eager, while within her kiss
Trembled the broken rhythm of her blood,
I cried, “O slay thy worshippers, O God
Of Love! for life must be forevermore
After this joy a lesser joy than this!”

[XIV
My lips shut hard against her lyric throat]

My lips shut hard against her lyric throat;
Her hands were tense, her pulses tremulous:
Life burned and languished while I held her thus;
The feet of Time grew soundless and remote.
Glitters of Truth's consummate splendour smote
Our eyes with fire, and music, over us,
Like spheres of crystal clear and marvellous,
Fell thro' the faultless silence note by note.
When life and time drave us once more apart,
Life seemed a hollow shell of irised pearl
Filled with the song-pulse of her gorgeous heart;
And Time an eyeless ghost who, thro' the night
Where stars burn and dawn lifts and lightnings whirl,
Strove to constrain me from the paths of light.

[XV
She stood in the weird moonlight of a dream]

She stood in the weird moonlight of a dream,
And in the light there was incredible
Silence, and on her lips no syllable
Of any speech, and in her eyes no gleam.
And by her still white feet the narrow stream
Paused in its flood, forgetful of the sea,
In shining silence, and it seemed to me
That silence quelled the stars and reigned supreme!
And terribly I felt there was no stir
But only silence in the heart of her,
And silence in her soul!—Then was I hurled
Back into life, and woke, and knew that she,
In moonlit silence, somewhere in the world
Waited alone and motionless for me.

[XVI
Her eyes are spacious as the starlight is]

Her eyes are spacious as the starlight is;
Her brows are clear and pale as porphyry;
Her breasts are hueless as young ivory,
Save where they crimson, wounded by a kiss.
Her beauty wears the mood of Nemesis;
She is aloof from Time and Memory;
Her hands were shaped for love, and utterly
Her lip's deep curve was carved and stained for this.
I will alone, in silence, go to her
And feel beneath my kiss her pulses stir,
And in her hair the perfume of Love's breath;
And she will understand and bear with me
The joy of life, the pain, the mystery;
The thought, the fear, the loneliness of death.

[XVII
We strayed in Time's dream-haunted night]

We strayed in Time's dream-haunted night
And watched the voiceless stars of thought
That thro' the warp of darkness wrought
Their frail and faithful threads of light.
But when life's passion blurred our sight,
We cried, “It dawns! Desire has brought
That guide our souls have vainly sought
For life, the way-worn eremite!”
Yet from the dazzled eyes of youth
The fire, subdued to sunset, cleared
At last, and we were left with truth:
For there, above the sunset's bars,
Still changeless and on high, appeared
The boundless night, the steadfast stars.

[XVIII
We loved the moon in strange sweet ways]

We loved the moon in strange sweet ways,
The moon that loved Endymion;
We loved the stars that one by one
Swelled thro' the sunset's golden haze.
We loved the skies of chrysoprase,
Pale violet and vermillion,—
The skies that soon must yield the sun;
We loved our proud, impassioned days.
We knew the gain of love is love,
We knew mere life is happiness,
We knew nor grief nor death can prove
That love is lost or life is less:—
We guessed the vaster scope thereof,
Closed in the cosmic consciousness.

[XIX
She said: “Heart breaks—yet, strangely, into song]

She said: “Heart breaks—yet, strangely, into song!
Then, when I leave thee, is there nothing lost?
God knows, in your account and mine, the cost,
Tho' all of life must pay and life be long,
Is not too much! yet day by day the strong
Monotony may blunt the edge of pain
And leave us joyless, till we wake again
To find our lives have done the Truth much wrong.
Nay! for the present and ineffable flame
That kindles at the core of life, shall last
Beyond remembrance! Time shall never tame
The Truth, but like a pillared watch-fire
It still shall cheer our pilgrimage and cast
New light to guide the quest of soul's desire!”

[XX
When she returns to me, when there is sound]

When she returns to me, when there is sound
And motion of her, and perfume of her,
And light and laughter of her eyes that were
The stars whither my homeless life was bound,—
When she returns and all my days resound
With Love's clear voice, who is her chorister,
And all my heart is shaken with the stir
Of Love's wide wings, and all my life is crowned
With her and her delight and her desire,
And all the night long, strong and swift as fire,
Her deep caress responds to my embrace,—
When she returns what shall I offer thee,
Upon thine altars in thy dwelling-place,
O God of Love, when she returns to me?

[XXI
What save her memory has Time left to me]

What save her memory has Time left to me?
The memory of the twilight of her hair,
The memory of her breast, profound and bare,
And of her mouth the dazzled memory!
For Memory, in the paradise that we
Seemed in Love's morning of the world to share,
Wanders alone, and, thro' the stagnant air,
Shows her small light in the obscurity.
And Memory too shall perish, as the stream
Of time flows ceaseless and resistless on!
Yet, when again Love makes our twain souls one,
May we not glimpse, thro' life's dissolving dream,
Rays of imperishable light that seem
Dawn in the dark depths of oblivion.

[XXII
Remembrance is a desolate loneliness]

Remembrance is a desolate loneliness:
Alone we watch the light of life's lost days
Fade, strange and spectral, in the soundless ways
Of immemorial time, forever less.
The lustre of her living loveliness,
Soft as a song's most tense and tender phrase,
Seems like a windless sunset's golden haze,
Arched by the nightfall of forgetfulness.
Gone is the perfume of her naked breast,
Gone are her hands' caress, her lips' desire:
And in the House where once the feast was spread,
The chambers garnished for a nobler guest,
Amid the scattered ashes of Love's fire,
Pale Memory crouches, weeping o'er the dead.

[XXIII
I know in some far, fabled place]

I know in some far, fabled place,
Some land of old, immortal things,
The thrilled remembrance of our springs
Returns with spring to vex her peace.
Hearkening with pale impassioned face
As Life's faint fingers sweep the strings,
She hears an inward voice that sings
The Love too strong for Time and Space.
She knows, how much soever the loss
Of days unshared is loss indeed,
Yet stars shine up the endless sky,
That bear, from heart to heart across,
Still the foreverlasting need,
The love too greatly lived to die!

[XXIV
I thought she came in hushed and secret wise]

I thought she came in hushed and secret wise
And stood in silence close beside me here,
Mantled in some gold-glimmering atmosphere,
Deep as the light of sunset-splendid skies.
Then, with her breast's smooth curve, her lucent eyes,
Haunted with visions of the lonely soul,
Her high white face, she seemed the mythic goal
Of some fantastic, fabled enterprise.
Then, till my thirst was quenched, my hunger fed,
I seemed, with hands that clung and lips that kissed,
To hold and to possess her utterly;
While all her passion and beauty were to me
The lustral wine, the sacramental bread
Laid on Love's altar for Life's eucharist!

[XXV
Vainly the days return, in vain by night]

Vainly the days return, in vain by night,—
Since thou art gone!—the stars stand choir-wise;
Gaunt as a moonlit road the future lies,—
Since thou hast left me!—to the verge of sight.
Since thou art gone there is no more delight
Of life, since thou hast left me! and the skies
Of love are dark, since now between our eyes
Kindles no more the imperishable light.
Thus are the Gods revenged for what we won
Of the celestial fire! The forward way,
Our way, as must be, goes superbly on,
Heedless of our disaster. Night and day
Flash up the abyss where one eternal ray
Falls from one steadfast star—perchance a sun!

[XXVI
She said: “I know the miracle is this]

She said: “I know the miracle is this,
This pause and foretaste of eternity:
Time was for us and time returns; but we
To-day guess something, for life's chrysalis,
In one transcendent metamorphosis,
Shatters, and wings flash sky-ward, and we see
Suddenly—stars!—and now no less can be
Declared of life than what the secret is!
Yet time returns, and death perchance is long
And time eternal,—but the stars that throng
Our skies of silence live beyond control
Of death and time, for, guessing at the goal
Of truth, we rise, thro' ringing spheres of song,
And find them glittering steadfast in the soul!”