THE COURT OF THE PROFANE. 
41 
My way was more swift than a bow 
 That flings out its barb to the night : 
My sword struck the infinite blow 
That smote him, and blackened the flow 
 Of the amorous river of light. 
 
I plunged in the stream, and I drew 
 My queen from the clasp of the water ; 
I crowned her with roses and blue, 
With yellow and lilies anew ; 
 I called her my love and God’s daughter ! 
 
I gave her a sceptre of may, 
 I gave her a girdle of green, 
I drew her to music and day, 
I led her the beautiful way 
 To the land where the Winds lie between. 
 
So still lingers sun upon sea, 
 Still twilight draws down to the world ; 
The light of my spirit is she, 
The soul of her love is in me ; 
 Lithe kisses with music are curled. 
 
Like light on the meadows we dwell ; 
 Like twilight clings heart unto heart ; 
Like midnight the depth of the spell 
Our love weaves, and stronger than hell 
 The guards of our palace of art.