The Equinox (Volume I, Number IX)

188 THE EQUINOX (11) I care not though my love hath murdered me With one soft touch of her most tender lips ; For dying on her breast, love’s face I see: Love calls me back from death; my spirit slips Back to the old forgetfulness, ere I Was risen to life’s surface, virgin-pure To tinge my soul with the blueness of the sky, The sun’s gold, and earth’s blacknesses secure. Wherefore shall I repine that I must fade? Shall there not alway be immortal roses? How, losing life then, shall I be afraid If at the sunset my tired soul reposes? Oh, I shall lie on my love’s breast for ever, For we, being dead, shall lose each other never! (111) I turn to mortal love ; imagining Hath made a world that I may wander in; Where Love sits crowned, a blind and wingéd thing, Winged for delight of roving, blind to sin. This temple of Desire is pure and white, Transparent to the sunlight and the day! Most deeply calm under the star-lit night: Love's lamp guides lonely pilgrims on their way. My staff hath flowered with love’s immortal Rose; And I, that long be excommunicate, At early noon wait till the gates unclose: I loll in the sunshine at the Eastern gate.