The Argonauts

ACTUS QUARTUS The sea assumes the lunar light, And he—their eremite! In their calm intercourse and kiss Even hell itself no longer is; For nothing in their love abides That passes not beneath their tides, And whoso bathes in light of theirs, And water, changes unawares To be no separate soul, but be Himself the moon and sea. Not all the wealth that flowers shed, And sacred streams, on that calm head; Not all the earth’s spell-weaving dream And scent of new-turned earth shall seem Again indeed his mother’s breast To breathe like sleep and give him rest ; He lives or dies in subtler swoon Between the sea and moon. So standing, gliding, undeterred By any her alluring word That calls from older forest glades, My soul forgets the gentle maids That wooed me in the scarlet bowers, And golden cluster-woof of flowers; Forgets itself, content to be Between the moon and sea.