70 ALICE: AN ADULTERY
Of early even: then the tender bloom
Shone on her cheek and deepened as
the strong
Arms gathered round her, more than
shame or wrong,
And the soft question murmured ‘‘ Love
you—whom ?”
The deepening rose; the heart’s
quickening ;
The fear ; the increasing ecstasy of this—
A little cloud lifted a sombre wing
Shadowing our secret breath from Artemis—
Breasts met and arms enclosed, and all
the spring
Grew into summer with the first long
kiss.
pulse
THE FOURTEENTH DAY.
‘* Some there be that shadows kiss;
Such have but a shadow’s bliss;
There be fools alive, I wis.”
Merchant of Venice.
ALL day we chose each moment possible
When to the other’s face each face
might cling,
Each kiss burn forth, a double fiery
sting
-Exalting us in joy foreseen to swell
A mighty exultation ; it befell,
However, that I saw the shadowy thing
Lurk behind love, and flap a scornful
wing,
Seeing our honour stood a citadel.
I saw the foolishness of love that saith:
‘“*T am exalted over shame and death,
But will not take my fill of death and
shame.”’
For each kiss leaps, a more insistent breath,
And adds fresh fuel to the amorous
flame,
Not quells it—Is not honour but a name?
THE FIFTEENTH DAY.
‘* Were kisses all the joys in bed,
One woman would another wed.”
Sonnets to Sundry Notes of ALuste.
ANOTHER day rose of unceasing fire:
Kisses made monstrous for their sterile
storm
Maddening with sea-sounds, as of lute
or shawm
Fluting and clashing in extreme desire ;
The silly ‘* Thus far and no farther,” nigher
Each hour to break (poor arbitrary
form !)
As each kiss bade our bodies wed and
warm
Give love one chance before its wave
retire.
Not so: this trial was the tiniest
Man ever knew, confronted afterward
With giant fears and passions ;—long to
fight
And last to yield a Maenad-swelling breast
Unto a furious Dionysian horde
Drunk not with wine, but with aveng-
ing night.
THE SIXTEENTH DAY.
‘« My chastity’s the jewel of our house
Bequeathed down from many ancestors,
Which were the greatest obloquy i’ th’ world
For me to lose.”’
All's Well.
THERE was no secret cave of the wood’s
womb
Where we might kiss all day without a
start
Of fear that meant to stay and must
depart,
Nor any corner where the sea’s perfume