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… moors at Christmas. Wet The cold cheek numbs itself. A way Is here to make—an end of all ? What sadness closes in between Your eyes and mine to-day, my Queen?
…rs? Aye! but not find you there, nor yet Your likeness. Did you then forget You are my love? Arise and shine! It was your blasphemy, not mine. F 41
…you more: “ You spoke of love!” Indeed I did, And you must counter me unbid, Forgetting how we must define This floral love of yours and mine. That love and this are as diverse As Shelley’s poems and my verse. And now the bright laugh comes in spite Of all the cruel will can do. “I take,” you say, “a keen delight In Shelley, but as much in you.” There, you are foolish. And you know The thing I meant to say. O love! What little lightnings serve to show Glimpses of all your heart! Above All, and beneath all, lies there deep, Canopied over with yo…
…here is an eye that is above all eyes, ‘That is no eye. (Stood proud Anatta on the Bridge of Sighs ‘And thundered “Why?”) Which eyes are mine, which thine, poor ape, discover, ‘And even yet thou hast not lost thy lover, Khepbra, thou Beetle-headed God! Who travellest in thy strength above ‘The Heaven of Nu, with splendour shod Of Thoth, and girt about with Love! (© Sun at midnight! in thy Bark ‘The cynocephali proclaim Thy effulgent deity, and mark ‘The adorations of thy name In seemly stations one by one, As thou encirclest blinder poles ‘Than…
…with tears; Your hands are trembling in my own ; The slow voice falls upon my ears, An undulating monotone. Your lips are gathered up to mine; Your bosom heaves with fearful breath ; Your scent is keen as floral wine, Inviting me, and love, to death. You, whom I kept, a sacred shrine, Will fling the portals to the day ; Where shone the moon the sun shall shine, Silver in scarlet melt away. There is yet a pang: they give me this Who can; and you who could have failed? Is it too late to extend the kiss? Too late the goddess be unveiled? O but the…
THE STAR AND THE GARTER I HAT sadness closes in between Your eyes and mine to-day, my queen ? In dewfall of our glance hath come The chill of sunset in hot lands ’Mid iris and chrysanthemum. Well do I know the shaken sands Within the surf, the beaten bar Of coral, the white nenuphar Of moonrise stealing o’er the bay. So here’s the darkness, and the day Sinks, and a chill clusters, and I Wrap close the cloak : then is it so To-day, you rose-gleam on the snow, My own true lover ? Ardently I dare not look: I never looked So: that you know. But ins…
…le and devouring fire Leapt in live sparks about her limbs. Her spirit shields me, and bedims My sight: she needs me: I need her. She is mine: she calls me: sob and stir Strange pulses of old passionate Imperial ecstacies of fate. Destiny ; manhood; fear; delight; Desire; accomplishment; ere night Dipped her pale plumes to greet the sun She was not ; all is past and done. A dream? I wake from blissful sleep, But is it real? Well, I keep An accidental souvenir Whence thus to chronicle small beer; There is the garter. Launched our boat, The state…
… this : “In you I live: I live in you.” Had Latmos not known Artemis, Where were the faint lights of that dew Of Keats? O maiden moon of mine, Imperial crescent, rise and shine! 36
…d it is good to be alive. He shall ride off at dawn, and we Shall look upon our life again ; You old, and all your beauty be Broken, and mine a broken brain. Yet we shall know ; delighting still In the sole laughter death derides In vain; the indomitable will, Still burning in the spirit, guides Our hearts to truth ; we see, we know How foolish were the things he said, And answer in the afterglow How good it is that we are dead. Will you not come? Or, where the surf Beats on the coral, and the palm 18