Collected Works (Vol. III)

LOVE-SONGS 65 Lie still, O love, and let me hide my brows In the deep bosom and the scented vales. Thy deep drawn breath embrace my hair, resume My life in thine! With gateways of old gold. gales Sing like smooth silence through the extreme perfume. Here is an amber house Far nightin- Moving, flying, exulting, on we go, Borne on blue clouds of glory. On the river, Over the mountains of the night, above The stars of the night, above the floral glow Of the sun dawning now for us for ever Who rest content in the abode of love! Lie still, O love, and let the fragrant sleep Perfume our eyelids with dew-dropping death, And silence be the witness of the will. Fall, fall, fall back in the uprolling deep Wrapt in rose mist of unsuccessive breath Of love, of love. Lie still, O love, lie still. XXII. UNDER the stars the die was cast to win. The moonrays stained with pale embroidered bars The iridescent shimmer of your skin, Under the stars. Great angels drove their pearl-inwoven cars Through the night’s racecourse : silence stood within The folded cups of passion’s nenuphars. You were my own; sorrowless, without sin, That night—this night. Sinks the red eye? of Mars; The hand of Hermes! guides us as we spin Under the stars. 1 Tibetan astrologers give these symbols to the planets Mars and Mercury. VOL, IIT. XXIT, Droor the great eyelids purple-veined ! Stand, pure and pale and tremulous! Dare to believe, O soul unstained, The truth unguessed and unexplained ! The unquiet air monotonous Wreathes the sad head in whirring mist. Hath the delicate will disdained The delicate lips that would be kissed? Like far blue snows by sunrise caught Love lights the enlightened eyes of blue. Dare to believe the child-heart’s thought, And wake in wonder! For I knew From the first hour that This was true. XXIII. PROTOPLASM. ALTHOUGH I cannot leave these bitter leas, And whisper wiser than the southern breeze, And mix my master music with the sea’s ; Although I shiver and you smile; heap coal And you stand laughing where the long waves roll ; There is a sympathy of soul to soul. Not Scylla, not the iron Symplegades Shall bar that vessel, in delighted ease Winning her way by stainless sorceries. Though I be melancholy and thou fair, And I be dark and thou too high for care ; Both yet may strive in a serener air, Clasping the vast, the immeasurable knees ; Searching the secrets of the calm decrees Of Hermes gray or gol.! Musagetes ! Is there another? Unprofane, aware, See me secreted, silent, everywhere. And then consider! Dost thou dare to dare? The live sun leaps by invisible degrees ; The blessed moon grows slowly through the trees ; And fire has fire’s ingressive agonies. K