I22 
ANIMA LUNAE 
 
A child cried out that he had seen that face 
Limned with incomparable grace 
Even in the shape of splendour as she passed. 
The king’s thought turned at last 
To that forgotten story :  and desire 
Filled all his heart with aureate fire 
Whose texture was a woman’s hair :  so fine 
Bloomed the fair flower of pleasure : 
Not the wild solar treasure 
Of gleaming light, but the moon’s shadowy pearl, 
The love of a young girl 
Before she knows that love :  so mused the king ; 
“ I am not weary of the soul of spring” 
He said, “ none happier in this causeless chain 
Of life that bears no fruit of pain, 
No seed of sorrow,” yet his heart was stirred, 
And, wasting no weak word 
On the invulnerable air, that had 
No soul of memories sad, 
He passed through all the palace :  in his bowers 
He stooped and kissed the flowers ; 
And in his hall of audience stayed awhile, 
And with a glad strange smile 
Bade a farewell to all those lords of his ; 
And greeted with a kiss 
The virgins clustered in his halls of bliss. 
Next, passing through the city, gave his hand 
To many a joyous band 
Flower-decked that wandered through the wanton ways 
Through summer’s idle days.