The Wayfarer
I met her in a dim sweet wood,
She reached her lilied arms to me;
Her eyes were like the stars that shine
In a full midnight sea.
Her unbound hair held flecks of gold,
Like sunlight trembling thro’ the leaves;
Her voice was like the wind that steals
Among the ripened sheaves.
Her breast was whiter than the snow
New-fallen on some mountain height
Where only snows on white snows fall,
Silently day and night.
Her garment was of pearly stuff
That fell about her thin and straight,
So thin her lovely limbs shone through,
Soft, round, and delicate.
Her waist was circled, girdle-wise,
With creamy lilies, yellow-tipped;
Her breath was as sweet as wall-flowers,
And she was delicious-lipped.
“I am that fair Desire,” said she,
“Whom, soon or late, each man must meet”
(She reached her lilied arms to me);
“Kiss me, my lips are sweet.”
I kissed her not; I spoke no word;
The night was soft, the hour was late;A maid so chaste and perfect must
Be kept inviolate.
“Kiss me, my lips are very sweet.”. . .
I trembled, but I spoke no word.
“My arms are warm.”. . . I turned away,
As if I had not heard.
"My breath is sweeter than clove-pinks;
And if a kiss be long,” she said—
I waited then to hear no more,
But thro’ the forest fled.
She followed; and I felt her breath
Upon my neck, upon my cheek;
And heard her voice entreating me,
But would not turn nor speak.
But when her steps fell faint and far
Behind, so I could scarcely hear,
And her insistent pleading fell
No longer on my ear;
Ah, then, with passionate longing torn,
I trembling paused, and listening stood,
To hear if she still followed me
Thro’ that lone purple wood.
It seemed I heard the twinflower bells
Announce the coming of her feet;
The very perfume of the musk
Thro’ my full pulses beat.
The dogwood lit her silver stars
To light her as she came;
The broad reeds whispered; the brook tried
To falter out her name.
Something went thro’ me wild and sweet—
All music, perfume, color, fire—
Sought, found, and thrilled and filled my heart
Full, full with white Desire.
(God witness!) Still I tried to turn,
To flee ere it might be too late;
Still said, —“A maid so perfect must
Be kept inviolate.”
But once again I felt her breath
Upon my brow, upon my cheek;
Her sweetness shook me to the soul,
I could not move nor speak.
I felt her arms about my neck,
Her tender warmth within my breast;
And then her fragrant, trembling mouth
Upon my own was pressed.
(God hear me!) Then I knew no more;
My very soul went from me—went
To lose itself in the soul of her
In swift, sweet ravishment.
* * * * * * *
The years are long; and many maids
Have crossed my life, have touched my heart;But in my mem’ry, pure and white,
That one maid dwells apart.
Like some clear light that God has lit,
She shines across my darkest night;
Let come the thought of her, and lo!
My heart thrills with delight.
But I shall never see her more,
Tho’ I have sought her far and wide;
She is gone utterly, as if
At my embrace she died.
Can she be dead? That lily-maid?
In dreams again I hear her call,
And feel the perfume of her breath
In petals round me fall.
And waking eagerly I lean
To press my cheek deep in her hair,
Or find the sweetness of her mouth—
But lo, she is not there!
She is not there nor anywhere;
I know that she will come no more;
And yet I haunt the dim, sweet wood
That lies along the shore,
And listen if I may not hear,
As once I heard, her far, sweet call,Or on the beaten, yellow leaves
Her coming footsteps fall.
Come other maids that bear her name,
But touched not with her sacred fire;
She was the holiest of them all—
My own soul’s fair Desire!
Too fair for my rough touch, alas!
I should have worshipped her afar;
Kissed her gown’s hem; and bid her guide
My footsteps, like a star.
So fair was she that when the dusk
Shakes loose the scent of musk and fir,Dearer than any living maid
Is the memory of her.
No comments:
Post a Comment