 | English Roses |  |
HERAIS.
Far, far away in the dim mists of time
And stories strange and mute,
Heraïs mingles with the river's chime,
Low-browed and absolute.
Yet now in shade she cometh back to me
Out of the gracious gloom,
A thing of glory lithe and fair and free,
In dark Egyptian bloom.
From this old letter I can build her up,
With all the East engrained;
The half-bared bosom and the lips' red cup,
And fingers henna-stained.
I mark the heaving of the passioned breast,
I scan the scornful pose;
And stories strange and mute,
Heraïs mingles with the river's chime,
Low-browed and absolute.
Yet now in shade she cometh back to me
Out of the gracious gloom,
A thing of glory lithe and fair and free,
In dark Egyptian bloom.
From this old letter I can build her up,
With all the East engrained;
The half-bared bosom and the lips' red cup,
And fingers henna-stained.
I mark the heaving of the passioned breast,
I scan the scornful pose;
Imperious beauty which relents to rest,
As sinks a summer rose.
I seem to know the curving of that form,
Its supple sinuous grace;
Foreign and yet familiar, like a storm
Of fire in its embrace.
I know that mine have met those glowing arms,
My life entangled hers
And melted in the madness of those charms,
To sounds of dulcimers.
O all the tempest lurking in her smile,
The love akin to hate,
Have been in English lands a golden guile
And bliss re-incarnate.
As sinks a summer rose.
I seem to know the curving of that form,
Its supple sinuous grace;
Foreign and yet familiar, like a storm
Of fire in its embrace.
77
My life entangled hers
And melted in the madness of those charms,
To sounds of dulcimers.
O all the tempest lurking in her smile,
The love akin to hate,
Have been in English lands a golden guile
And bliss re-incarnate.
| English Roses | |