 | The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems |  |
63
LOVE'S EARLY MUSIC.
I.—THE SONG OF THE BLACK-BROWN HAIR.
All ye who care to a tale to list
Of wonder of woman, and man's despair,
Come—hark to the tale that I love the best,
Of my Alice's wonder of black-brown hair.
Of wonder of woman, and man's despair,
Come—hark to the tale that I love the best,
Of my Alice's wonder of black-brown hair.
Alice the beautiful! Alice the fair!
Sweet lady of torment; clothed as a queen,
With the sad, sweet tresses of black-brown hair—
The sweetest of any my eyes have seen.
Sweet lady of torment; clothed as a queen,
With the sad, sweet tresses of black-brown hair—
The sweetest of any my eyes have seen.
The sweetest crown that Love ever bore—
The black-brown tresses that come in the night;
And, pouring about me, unite to pour
A heavy-sweet perfume of vain delight.
The black-brown tresses that come in the night;
And, pouring about me, unite to pour
A heavy-sweet perfume of vain delight.
An odour that clothes me and wraps me around,
Till I feel nought else in my mad delight
And shiver of pulses—as one in a swound
Dreams rapturous visions till morning light.
Till I feel nought else in my mad delight
And shiver of pulses—as one in a swound
Dreams rapturous visions till morning light.
64
An odour of roses, and faintly fair
With the faint sweet breath, and the balm of the night;
The odorous odour of black-brown hair,
That slays me, and makes me alive with might.
With the faint sweet breath, and the balm of the night;
The odorous odour of black-brown hair,
That slays me, and makes me alive with might.
The odour, as rich as the bright gorse-bloom,
Flows through me and wraps me as vapour the stars;
Yea, windeth around me as web of the loom;
As a stream that ripples, as flame that chars.
Flows through me and wraps me as vapour the stars;
Yea, windeth around me as web of the loom;
As a stream that ripples, as flame that chars.
The manifold scents of the year of flowers
Are gathered, and garnered, and made as one.
The sweet scent mindeth of deep green bowers,
Hot, and kissed, and blessed by the sun.
Are gathered, and garnered, and made as one.
The sweet scent mindeth of deep green bowers,
Hot, and kissed, and blessed by the sun.
The sweet scent mindeth of lonesome lakes,
And autumn sunsets of green and grey,
And the sea, with its ripple of luminous flakes,
And the deep burnt odour of dying day.
And autumn sunsets of green and grey,
And the sea, with its ripple of luminous flakes,
And the deep burnt odour of dying day.
To bury my face in the black-brown hair
That maddeneth me to think upon—
To tell thee once that thou art fair,
And fling thee my heart to trample upon!
That maddeneth me to think upon—
To tell thee once that thou art fair,
And fling thee my heart to trample upon!
65
To look right into the deep green eyes,
And through them, and through them—and look yet again—
To sigh out my soul in a passion of sighs,
As clouds outpour their burden of rain.
And through them, and through them—and look yet again—
To sigh out my soul in a passion of sighs,
As clouds outpour their burden of rain.
To tell thee I love thee, and that thou art fair,
Yea, fairer than roses, and soft as the dew—
And sweet, O sweetest, beyond compare,
With a sweetness that thrilleth me through and through.
Yea, fairer than roses, and soft as the dew—
And sweet, O sweetest, beyond compare,
With a sweetness that thrilleth me through and through.
To bury my face in the black-brown hair!
The black-brown hair that I love so well!
To bury therein my burden of care,
And rise, well knowing that all is well.
The black-brown hair that I love so well!
To bury therein my burden of care,
And rise, well knowing that all is well.
To bury my face in the black-brown hair;
To anoint my face with its honey-soft smell!
How madly I love it, song cannot declare—
How wildly I long for it, life cannot tell.
To anoint my face with its honey-soft smell!
How madly I love it, song cannot declare—
How wildly I long for it, life cannot tell.
To cool my cheeks in the black-brown hair;
To swaddle it round me, and choke my sighs—
To wrap myself round with the black-brown hair,
And bite it, and kiss it—and kiss your eyes.
To swaddle it round me, and choke my sighs—
To wrap myself round with the black-brown hair,
And bite it, and kiss it—and kiss your eyes.
66
To kiss your eyes till I closed them, sweet;
To kiss them hardly with hungry lips;
To watch the torrent of passion's heat
Tinge your sweet face to the eyelid tips.
To kiss them hardly with hungry lips;
To watch the torrent of passion's heat
Tinge your sweet face to the eyelid tips.
To kiss your eyes till I closed them, sweet;
To kiss them open, and kiss them again;
To kiss your lips till I hurt you, sweet,
With clinging pleasure of panting pain.
To kiss them open, and kiss them again;
To kiss your lips till I hurt you, sweet,
With clinging pleasure of panting pain.
To bathe my face in the black-brown hair—
The black-brown hair that I love so well,
That to win one lock of the black-brown hair,
I would run, not walk, to the gates of hell.
The black-brown hair that I love so well,
That to win one lock of the black-brown hair,
I would run, not walk, to the gates of hell.
Yea, pass right through them, and scatter the flames,
And trample the fires with bold bare feet;
And face the devils, and face the flames,
And face the fires, and face the heat.
And trample the fires with bold bare feet;
And face the devils, and face the flames,
And face the fires, and face the heat.
Yea, face the cold of the ice-cold lake,
And hideous horror of ice-bound bands;
Whom pity of Dante did forsake,
Him would I gladden with heated hands.
And hideous horror of ice-bound bands;
Whom pity of Dante did forsake,
Him would I gladden with heated hands.
67
True sorrow the red flames cannot smother—
True love hell's fierce blows cannot break—
Love's tears shall deliver thy soul, my brother,
From its ice-bound bands in the ice-cold lake.
True love hell's fierce blows cannot break—
Love's tears shall deliver thy soul, my brother,
From its ice-bound bands in the ice-cold lake.
Though great the horror and hot the fires,
That strive the heart of a man to shake;
Yet stronger is love, and love's desires,
And greater the cause that love has at stake.
That strive the heart of a man to shake;
Yet stronger is love, and love's desires,
And greater the cause that love has at stake.
Love, who is sweet as a maid that advances,
Can soothe as a maiden, and mould, and remake;
Love, with his quiver of winged eye-glances,
Can pierce to the depths of the ice-cold lake.
Can soothe as a maiden, and mould, and remake;
Love, with his quiver of winged eye-glances,
Can pierce to the depths of the ice-cold lake.
Pale cowards I sought and kissed, and liars
My soul in pity would not forsake;
Methought a soul that had faced the fires,
Might laugh at the cold of the ice-cold lake.
My soul in pity would not forsake;
Methought a soul that had faced the fires,
Might laugh at the cold of the ice-cold lake.
O, black-brown hair that I love the best,
Of all fair hair of women I've seen,
The black is as black as a blackbird's breast,
The brown is as bright as a thrush's wing.
Of all fair hair of women I've seen,
The black is as black as a blackbird's breast,
The brown is as bright as a thrush's wing.
68
Nor only the hair, so tenderly fair,
Shines—all thy beauty, from foot to head,
Leads on from afar, a white soft star,
With rays o'er ripples of yearning shed.
Shines—all thy beauty, from foot to head,
Leads on from afar, a white soft star,
With rays o'er ripples of yearning shed.
Thy form appeareth in dreams at night,
With limbs that dazzle on every side;
For each, as it seemeth to me, gleams white
With a halo of passion glorified.
With limbs that dazzle on every side;
For each, as it seemeth to me, gleams white
With a halo of passion glorified.
O, sweet, warm dream, that endured for awhile,
Then burst like a bubble, and left all dark,
Could I reach you once, though death should defile
My body, and leave it a shattered ark,
Then burst like a bubble, and left all dark,
Could I reach you once, though death should defile
My body, and leave it a shattered ark,
I would gather my whole soul into a kiss—
That kiss should show how I loved you, sweet;
But my soul escaping, through too much bliss,
Would leave me, I wot well, dead at your feet!
That kiss should show how I loved you, sweet;
But my soul escaping, through too much bliss,
Would leave me, I wot well, dead at your feet!
Far in the far-away heights of the ether,
Saileth my lady on outspread wings;
I crawl, æons and æons beneath her—
A man that groaneth—a maid that sings.
Saileth my lady on outspread wings;
I crawl, æons and æons beneath her—
A man that groaneth—a maid that sings.
69
I struggle to reach her, I strive to beseech her,
Through ages pursuing the sound of her strain;
Ages of horror and wild weird agony!
Ages of agony—æons of pain!
Through ages pursuing the sound of her strain;
Ages of horror and wild weird agony!
Ages of agony—æons of pain!
My lady I follow, with wings of a swallow,
And feet as the swift sweet feet of a fawn;
O'er highland and hollow, my lady I follow,
From morn to twilight, from night till dawn.
And feet as the swift sweet feet of a fawn;
O'er highland and hollow, my lady I follow,
From morn to twilight, from night till dawn.
O'er mountain and hollow, with speed of a swallow,
Full hard to follow, my lady hies;
The feet that twinkle, sweet odours sprinkle,
The better to trace her course as she flies.
Full hard to follow, my lady hies;
The feet that twinkle, sweet odours sprinkle,
The better to trace her course as she flies.
The sunset is gleaming, faint odours are streaming
About the bier of the day now dead;
My lady, like a soft ghost in seeming,
Steers for the sunset of yellow and red.
About the bier of the day now dead;
My lady, like a soft ghost in seeming,
Steers for the sunset of yellow and red.
Ah! those pure shadows across the meadows,
Bright clouds that cover the sun's gold head,
The mystical west, by his warmth caressed,
Is all on fire with orange and red.
Bright clouds that cover the sun's gold head,
The mystical west, by his warmth caressed,
Is all on fire with orange and red.
70
Strange colours that seem, as in some deep dream,
To show forth passion, when passion is ripe:
Wild tints that stay, at the close of the day,
For love's pure image, for love's soft type.
To show forth passion, when passion is ripe:
Wild tints that stay, at the close of the day,
For love's pure image, for love's soft type.
The love of a man is as red fierce fire;
The love of a woman as flickering flame;
The fire smoulders—the flame leaps higher,
As high as the heavens from whence it came.
The love of a woman as flickering flame;
The fire smoulders—the flame leaps higher,
As high as the heavens from whence it came.
The happiness fadeth, my lady upbraideth,
With words that are cruel (with looks that are sweet);
I hurry me over fair fields of clover,
That glitter with whiteness of vanishing feet.
With words that are cruel (with looks that are sweet);
I hurry me over fair fields of clover,
That glitter with whiteness of vanishing feet.
Her breath is sweeter, her beauty completer
Than clover-blossoms the night winds beat;
Her face is fairer, her cheeks are rarer
Than roses; her hands are whiter than wheat.
Than clover-blossoms the night winds beat;
Her face is fairer, her cheeks are rarer
Than roses; her hands are whiter than wheat.
O lady of wonder, strong as the thunder,
And brighter than brightness of lightning rays,
With sweet short lips, now smiling asunder,
Now puckered in petulant, pouting ways.
And brighter than brightness of lightning rays,
With sweet short lips, now smiling asunder,
Now puckered in petulant, pouting ways.
71
Thou wilt not obey me! 'twere better to slay me!
Without thy presence no life can endure!
To die were pleasure—to suffer, sweet measure,
To die, well-dying by hands that are pure.
Without thy presence no life can endure!
To die were pleasure—to suffer, sweet measure,
To die, well-dying by hands that are pure.
Yea, life were bitter, and death were fitter,
Without thee; with thee, death were sweet!
Lips lately laden with kisses of maiden,
Are strong fires ready death's fires to meet!
Without thee; with thee, death were sweet!
Lips lately laden with kisses of maiden,
Are strong fires ready death's fires to meet!
When soul and body are smitten in sunder,
And life fails, slain by the fire from above;
Will there be anything left I wonder—
Anything left us as luscious as love?
And life fails, slain by the fire from above;
Will there be anything left I wonder—
Anything left us as luscious as love?
Will there be anything perfect and painless?
Joy without sadness, fire without flame—
Passion that rises imperial and stainless—
Mirth without madness, love without shame?
Joy without sadness, fire without flame—
Passion that rises imperial and stainless—
Mirth without madness, love without shame?
O, Death! O, reaper of days and hours!
High on the hill-tops, deep in the mine;
By garnering sons and daughters of ours,
Daily developing muscle of thine!
High on the hill-tops, deep in the mine;
By garnering sons and daughters of ours,
Daily developing muscle of thine!
72
O, Death! what shall I say of thee?
In this my song that a woman commands!
How shall we wait thy coming? with glee—
With laughter, like some spring flower that expands—
In this my song that a woman commands!
How shall we wait thy coming? with glee—
With laughter, like some spring flower that expands—
Standing with eyes cast down to the ground—
Or sternly regarding the hour-glass sands,
O, Death, our Brother?—and thus be found,
Awaiting thy coming with folded hands.
Or sternly regarding the hour-glass sands,
O, Death, our Brother?—and thus be found,
Awaiting thy coming with folded hands.
Ah! sweet, remember you dim green bowers,
And a soft summer day long buried and dead;
When I wove you a garland of meadow-sweet flowers,
As a prize for your beauty—a crown for your head?
And a soft summer day long buried and dead;
When I wove you a garland of meadow-sweet flowers,
As a prize for your beauty—a crown for your head?
I was but a poor wild swan, without note—
To my breast your arrow-point did not cling—
But now I am stricken, and songs forth float—
Then I was voiceless; now I can sing.
To my breast your arrow-point did not cling—
But now I am stricken, and songs forth float—
Then I was voiceless; now I can sing.
I can sing of the vision of quivering lips,
And hair that in ripples went and came;
And a face that shone to the eyelid tips
With lovely showers of passion's flame.
And hair that in ripples went and came;
And a face that shone to the eyelid tips
With lovely showers of passion's flame.
73
I can sing of visions that flashed in the night
Before me—whereat the sick heart swims;
Of draperies golden, and dimly white
With a white revelation of gleaming limbs.
Before me—whereat the sick heart swims;
Of draperies golden, and dimly white
With a white revelation of gleaming limbs.
And, since I can sing, as I could not of old,
And tell all nations that thou art fair;
Vouchsafe me a gift — no gift of gold—
Only a tress of the black-brown hair.
And tell all nations that thou art fair;
Vouchsafe me a gift — no gift of gold—
Only a tress of the black-brown hair.
Oh, since I can speak—yea, since I am bold,
And able to sound sweet songs i' the air;
Be kind, be pitiful—be not cold,
Vouchsafe me a lock of the black-brown hair.
And able to sound sweet songs i' the air;
Be kind, be pitiful—be not cold,
Vouchsafe me a lock of the black-brown hair.
I need it—indeed, it has ever been told
That a safeguard from evil is found in the rare
Love-locks Love's finger doth linger to hold—
Oh, grant me a safeguard of black-brown hair.
That a safeguard from evil is found in the rare
Love-locks Love's finger doth linger to hold—
Oh, grant me a safeguard of black-brown hair.
That, when I am wounded, or pale and surrounded
By enemies whose eyes glitter and glare,
That delicate tress may be near to redress—
That sure sweet safeguard of black-brown hair!
By enemies whose eyes glitter and glare,
That delicate tress may be near to redress—
That sure sweet safeguard of black-brown hair!
74
And when I am dying, that lock may be lying,
Still where you placed it—still left there;
That Death may be sure that a woman most pure
Once found me—and crowned me with black-brown hair!
Still where you placed it—still left there;
That Death may be sure that a woman most pure
Once found me—and crowned me with black-brown hair!
Yea, this you may give me—you've chosen to leave me,
All else—all softer delights, I miss.
Grant me the hair; and, in heaven's high air,
Grant me a rosebud; give me a kiss.
All else—all softer delights, I miss.
Grant me the hair; and, in heaven's high air,
Grant me a rosebud; give me a kiss.
This token of thine, which I long for and pine
To possess, thou mayest give me—I crave but this
Upon earth; in the sky be tender with thy
Long, deep-drawn, deathless, universe-kiss!
To possess, thou mayest give me—I crave but this
Upon earth; in the sky be tender with thy
Long, deep-drawn, deathless, universe-kiss!
It shall make me amends for the folly of friends,
It shall cure as a pure rose saves by its scent;
It shall be unto me Christ's purity,
And God's most merciful kindly intent.
It shall cure as a pure rose saves by its scent;
It shall be unto me Christ's purity,
And God's most merciful kindly intent.
It shall be the blossom and beauty of things—
Divine sweet Alice, for thy soft kiss
I will wait till fate at the golden gate
Of heaven brings straight what seemed amiss.
Divine sweet Alice, for thy soft kiss
I will wait till fate at the golden gate
Of heaven brings straight what seemed amiss.
75
For I shall remember our sweet September
For ever; I think thou wilt not forget;
But in some far heaven thy soft eyes even
With love of that old time may be wet.
For ever; I think thou wilt not forget;
But in some far heaven thy soft eyes even
With love of that old time may be wet.
I part from thee here for many a year,
With songs of sorrow, and words of regret,
But, trust me—never shall Time's sword sever
The golden thought of the joys we met.
With songs of sorrow, and words of regret,
But, trust me—never shall Time's sword sever
The golden thought of the joys we met.
My labour shall find thee, my voice shall remind thee
Of old hopes vanished, from time to time;
My poems shall follow thee, with plumes of a swallow thee
Seeking—with ardours of valorous rhyme.
Of old hopes vanished, from time to time;
My poems shall follow thee, with plumes of a swallow thee
Seeking—with ardours of valorous rhyme.
In this life I yield thee; but 'tis but to shield thee
The better; 'tis but to be free to proclaim
To men that shall listen, soft eyes that shall glisten
As thine eyes glistened, thine own sweet name.
The better; 'tis but to be free to proclaim
To men that shall listen, soft eyes that shall glisten
As thine eyes glistened, thine own sweet name.
'Tis but to make greater our pleasure later,
When both our hearts and our minds have grown;
Some spirit has told me that I shall enfold thee
One day, my lost one—but still mine own.
When both our hearts and our minds have grown;
Some spirit has told me that I shall enfold thee
One day, my lost one—but still mine own.
76
I feel, through the weary days, dismal and dreary,
The far keen rapture of that embrace!
Its far keen glory—when life's dull story
Is quickened, by thine imperial face.
The far keen rapture of that embrace!
Its far keen glory—when life's dull story
Is quickened, by thine imperial face.
When the draperies golden, that flamed in the olden
Soft dream, float lovingly close to mine;
When thou art not holden in sorrow, embolden
My coming—call for me, lady divine!
Soft dream, float lovingly close to mine;
When thou art not holden in sorrow, embolden
My coming—call for me, lady divine!
And I will be ready, my voice shall be steady,
And all the airs around shall be sweet;
To the dim soft bower of love's first hour
We two will hasten, we twain will retreat.
And all the airs around shall be sweet;
To the dim soft bower of love's first hour
We two will hasten, we twain will retreat.
To the bright far meadows, where love's first shadows
Fell—and crossed, and were tossed round our feet;
To that far glad ocean, whose amorous motion
Combined and twined with our bosoms' beat.
Fell—and crossed, and were tossed round our feet;
To that far glad ocean, whose amorous motion
Combined and twined with our bosoms' beat.
And there we will linger; I, the singer,
Thou the singer's glory and crown;
And all life's labour, and life's red sabre,
In those far meadows I will lay down.
Thou the singer's glory and crown;
And all life's labour, and life's red sabre,
In those far meadows I will lay down.
77
For I only care for thee, and for singing—
I care not for pleasure, I heed not the toys
To which the hands of the crowd are clinging—
I seek not the common inglorious joys.
I care not for pleasure, I heed not the toys
To which the hands of the crowd are clinging—
I seek not the common inglorious joys.
Treasures of silver, treasures of gold,
Fair hair of women, and crowns of kings,
And all that the earth's great granaries hold
Of fruitful flavour of precious things.
Fair hair of women, and crowns of kings,
And all that the earth's great granaries hold
Of fruitful flavour of precious things.
The wonders carven by cunning of tool—
The herds that bellow, the flocks that bleat—
And wealth of cotton, and wealth of wool,
And wonderful waving wealth of wheat.
The herds that bellow, the flocks that bleat—
And wealth of cotton, and wealth of wool,
And wonderful waving wealth of wheat.
I would fling them all to the winds, my sweet,—
The winds that scatter, the winds that tear,—
For one short half-hour to sit at thy feet,
And twine sweet roses in black-brown hair!
The winds that scatter, the winds that tear,—
For one short half-hour to sit at thy feet,
And twine sweet roses in black-brown hair!
For one short half-hour to feel the passion
Course and flow through our veins as of old—
To twine thy locks in lover's fashion—
Plait upon soft plait, fold upon fold.
Course and flow through our veins as of old—
To twine thy locks in lover's fashion—
Plait upon soft plait, fold upon fold.
78
To know that never may chill time sever
The hearts of lovers once made one:
That the sorrow is over: that rover to rover
Clings—that agony's task is done.
The hearts of lovers once made one:
That the sorrow is over: that rover to rover
Clings—that agony's task is done.
As with one spirit to claim and inherit
All that God the King can provide,
All treasures of earth in a world-wide mirth
To gather together, for bridegroom and bride.
All that God the King can provide,
All treasures of earth in a world-wide mirth
To gather together, for bridegroom and bride.
To know that pure love, by the power from above,
Has conquered all barriers cast between:
To feel that thy soul, not a part, but the whole,
Is for ever my darling, for ever my queen.
Has conquered all barriers cast between:
To feel that thy soul, not a part, but the whole,
Is for ever my darling, for ever my queen.
To kiss thee at last, when our trouble is past,
With tenderness like God's tender embrace:
To pour my eyes, like God's glance from the skies,
Through the depths of thy spirit, the deeps of thy face.
With tenderness like God's tender embrace:
To pour my eyes, like God's glance from the skies,
Through the depths of thy spirit, the deeps of thy face.
Together carest, to be tranquil and blest—
No more to tremble—no more to yearn:
In one long sigh together to die—
In one long rapture God's peace to earn!
No more to tremble—no more to yearn:
In one long sigh together to die—
In one long rapture God's peace to earn!
79
It is this, it is this, O holiest kiss,
That in the end thy calm shall achieve—
Together, sweet Alice, love's uttermost chalice
In God's high palace, at life's soft eve,
That in the end thy calm shall achieve—
Together, sweet Alice, love's uttermost chalice
In God's high palace, at life's soft eve,
We shall drink, and the pure high joy shall endure,
And among the angels queenly and fair,
The foremost of all, white, passionate, tall,
Shall be crowned, as a woman, with black-brown hair.
And among the angels queenly and fair,
The foremost of all, white, passionate, tall,
Shall be crowned, as a woman, with black-brown hair.
From one sufferer whom he saw in hell, the great pitiful Dante turned without pity; an example not to be followed.
II.—PASSION'S MYSTICISM.
Of manhood's fierce addresses, and womanhood's caresses;
Of sultry summer sunshine, and the winds of spring;
For those that follow after, a tale of tears and laughter,
A tale of joy and sorrow, I will set myself to sing.
Of sultry summer sunshine, and the winds of spring;
For those that follow after, a tale of tears and laughter,
A tale of joy and sorrow, I will set myself to sing.
Once in time I met a woman, queenliest queen of all things human,
Queen of earth and queen of ocean, queen of fire and queen of air;
Before her bent my being, bowed in uttermost devotion,—
The crown of all things beautiful, the fairest of the fair.
Queen of earth and queen of ocean, queen of fire and queen of air;
Before her bent my being, bowed in uttermost devotion,—
The crown of all things beautiful, the fairest of the fair.
80
My darling, O my sweet one; if I never may possess you,
Let me greet you on the paper with blown kisses of my rhymes;
Let me still the frantic longing but to see you and caress you,
By fancying sweet lip-kisses, pressed a thousand, thousand times!
Let me greet you on the paper with blown kisses of my rhymes;
Let me still the frantic longing but to see you and caress you,
By fancying sweet lip-kisses, pressed a thousand, thousand times!
Oh, I long for her—I seek her! in the night-time I am dreaming
Of the tresses that elude me, and the hands that fly by day!
Yearning to embrace the fickle, hopeless fancies round me streaming!
Craving to possess and clasp and press the ghost to which I pray!
Of the tresses that elude me, and the hands that fly by day!
Yearning to embrace the fickle, hopeless fancies round me streaming!
Craving to possess and clasp and press the ghost to which I pray!
To inform her with mine image! to feel her flowing through me
With softly soothing current of electrical delight!
Absorbed into each other, ghostly sister—ghostly brother,
Phantom mixing into phantom, wedded spirits of the night!
With softly soothing current of electrical delight!
Absorbed into each other, ghostly sister—ghostly brother,
Phantom mixing into phantom, wedded spirits of the night!
81
As a smoke-wreath writhes and eddies, so her being writhes around me—
Clasps my body, clasps my spirit, clasps my fancy, clasps my mind;
Till my brain, instead of thinking, sits deliriously drinking
Deepest death-draughts of emotion, making deaf and dumb and blind.
Clasps my body, clasps my spirit, clasps my fancy, clasps my mind;
Till my brain, instead of thinking, sits deliriously drinking
Deepest death-draughts of emotion, making deaf and dumb and blind.
So I swoon on for ever, without shadow of endeavour,
As a passively-receiving image well content to serve:
While her presence winds about me, stealing stealthily throughout me—
Wakening musical re-echo of response in every nerve.
As a passively-receiving image well content to serve:
While her presence winds about me, stealing stealthily throughout me—
Wakening musical re-echo of response in every nerve.
Yielding up, without resistance, individual existence,
With every gate of being thrown wide open to receive,
First, a consciousness of Alice—second, of the great world-palace,
With its rainbow-rippling echoes—in full triumph I achieve.
With every gate of being thrown wide open to receive,
First, a consciousness of Alice—second, of the great world-palace,
With its rainbow-rippling echoes—in full triumph I achieve.
82
As a river to the ocean, with mute majesty of motion,
Rolls the river of her consciousness convolving into mine—
And our consciousnesses plighted, in a bridal band united,
Roam from region unto region, a world-consciousness to twine.
Rolls the river of her consciousness convolving into mine—
And our consciousnesses plighted, in a bridal band united,
Roam from region unto region, a world-consciousness to twine.
In a vision laid before me, as in German mystic story,
Lying naked, bare and open, the world-mystery I see;
Sweeping through my eyelid portals, rush the loves and hates of mortals,
Rush the loves of man and woman, past and present and to be.
Lying naked, bare and open, the world-mystery I see;
Sweeping through my eyelid portals, rush the loves and hates of mortals,
Rush the loves of man and woman, past and present and to be.
In a moment, in a twinkling, as if from magic sprinkling
Of wondrous magician, fall the scales from off my eyes;
Roofs of houses are uplifted, and partition-walls are shifted,
And the people are transparent, and dim worldvisions rise.
Of wondrous magician, fall the scales from off my eyes;
Roofs of houses are uplifted, and partition-walls are shifted,
And the people are transparent, and dim worldvisions rise.
83
Even such a mighty waking, from the love of thee is shaking
Its glorious powers throughout me—from the love of one sweet soul,
With majesty and terror, revealing every error,
Unfolding every beauty—no portion, but the whole.
Its glorious powers throughout me—from the love of one sweet soul,
With majesty and terror, revealing every error,
Unfolding every beauty—no portion, but the whole.
| The Marriage Before Death, And Other Poems | |