70 
AMBERGRIS 
 
 
 
 
FROM ALICE :  AN ADULTERY 
 
Red Poppy 
 
I have no heart to sing. 
What offering I may bring, 
Alice, to thee ? 
My great love’s lifted wing 
Weakens, unwearying, 
And droops with me, 
Singing the sun-kindled hair 
Close in the face more fair, 
The sweet soul shining there 
For God to see. 
 
Surely some angel shed 
Flowers for the maiden head, 
Ephemeral flowers ! 
I yearn, not comforted. 
My heart is vainly bled 
Through age-long hours. 
To thee my spirit turns ; 
My bright soul aches and burns, 
As a dry valley yearns 
For spring and showers. 
 
Splendid, remove, a fane 
Alone and unprofane 
I know thy breast. 
These bitter tears of pain 
Flood me, and fall again 
Not into rest. 
Me, whose sole purpose is 
To gain one gainless kiss, 
And make a bird’s my bliss, 
Shrined in that nest.