 | English Roses |  |
WINIFRED.
Elusive maiden, oft I try
If love can pierce the mystery
Which wraps thee like a curtain,
As dim as deep Infinity
Whose shine is shade uncertain.
What art thou, dearest? Maid or Sphinx,
Sweet daughter, with such curious links
Built up of silence, mated
With sleep and snow and moonlight glow,
For some dark purpose fated?
And, in those gray unfathomed eyes,
The enigma of the ages lies.
If love can pierce the mystery
Which wraps thee like a curtain,
As dim as deep Infinity
Whose shine is shade uncertain.
What art thou, dearest? Maid or Sphinx,
Sweet daughter, with such curious links
Built up of silence, mated
With sleep and snow and moonlight glow,
For some dark purpose fated?
And, in those gray unfathomed eyes,
The enigma of the ages lies.
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I sometimes wonder, if thou art
Indeed a child of me and part,
With airs so shy and mocking
And that impenetrable heart
Sweet riddle for unlocking.
Thou mayest be a creature lent,
To sport in pleasures innocent
Awhile with me and others;
And then someday wilt fly away,
To join thy fairy brothers.
For always, when I think thee mine
The most, deceptions round thee twine.
Indeed a child of me and part,
With airs so shy and mocking
And that impenetrable heart
Sweet riddle for unlocking.
Thou mayest be a creature lent,
To sport in pleasures innocent
Awhile with me and others;
And then someday wilt fly away,
To join thy fairy brothers.
For always, when I think thee mine
The most, deceptions round thee twine.
I never, if I plotted hard,
Once caught thee truly off thy guard
And with the mask divested;
Nor found a little door unbarred,
With entrance not arrested.
And while thou art in slumber set,
The mask is deepest on thee yet
And sure as arms of iron;
Yes, in thy dreams, no treacherous gleams
Tell what they do environ.
Though fortune serves me well or skill,
Between us is the shadow still.
Once caught thee truly off thy guard
And with the mask divested;
Nor found a little door unbarred,
With entrance not arrested.
And while thou art in slumber set,
The mask is deepest on thee yet
And sure as arms of iron;
Yes, in thy dreams, no treacherous gleams
Tell what they do environ.
Though fortune serves me well or skill,
Between us is the shadow still.
Thou livest in another land,
While free of this whereon I stand
Which holds not thy affection;
And, if I touch a human hand,
I know not its direction.
A veil, a mist, a message lost
Reveal a gulf by me uncrost
And far untravelled spaces;
I cannot spell, who love thee well,
The meaning of thy graces.
And when the glamour I would grasp,
I find but nothing in my clasp.
While free of this whereon I stand
Which holds not thy affection;
And, if I touch a human hand,
I know not its direction.
A veil, a mist, a message lost
Reveal a gulf by me uncrost
And far untravelled spaces;
I cannot spell, who love thee well,
The meaning of thy graces.
And when the glamour I would grasp,
I find but nothing in my clasp.
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