go.

THE RIVAL

  She failed me at the tryst:
    All the long afternoon
  The golden day went by,
    Until the rising moon;
  But, as I waited on,
    Turning my eyes about,
  Aching for sight of her,
    Until the stars came out,—
  Maybe 'twas but a dream—
    There close against my face,
  "Beauty am I," said one,
    "I come to take her place."

  And then I understood
    Why, all the waiting through,
  The green had seemed so green,
    The blue had seemed so blue,
  The song of bird and stream
    Had been so passing sweet,
  For all the coming not
    Of her forgetful feet;
  And how my heart was tranced,
    For all its lonely ache,
  Gazing on mirrored rushes
    Sky-deep in the lake.
  Said Beauty: "Me you love,
    You love her for my sake."

THE QUARREL

  Thou shall not me persuade
    This love of ours
  Can in a moment fade,
    Like summer flowers;

  That a swift word or two,
    In angry haste,
  Our heaven shall undo,
    Our hearts lay waste.

  For a poor flash of pride,
    A cold word spoken,
  Love shall not be denied,
    Or long troth broken.

  Yea; wilt thou not relent?
    Be mine the wrong,
  No more the argument,
    Dear love, prolong.

  The summer days go by,
    Cease that sweet rain,
  Those angry crystals dry,
    Be friends again.

  So short a time at best
    Is ours to play,
  Come, take me to thy breast—
    Ah! that's the way.

LOVERS

  Why should I ask perfection of thee, sweet,
    That have so little of mine own to bring?
  That thou art beautiful from head to feet—
    Is that, beloved, such a little thing,
    That I should ask more of thee, and should fling
  Thy largesse from me, in a world like this,
  O generous giver of thy perfect kiss?

  Thou gavest me thy lips, thine eyes, thine hair;
    I brought thee worship—was it not thy due?
  If thou art cruel—still art thou not fair?
    Roses thou gavest—shalt thou not bring rue?
    Alas! have I not brought thee sorrow too?
  How dare I face the future and its drouth,
  Missing that golden honeycomb thy mouth?

  Kiss and make up—'tis the wise ancient way;
    Back to my arms, O bountiful deep breast!
  No more of words that know not what they say;
    To kiss is wisdom—folly all the rest.
    Dear loveliness so mercifully pressed
  Against my heart—I shake with sudden fear
  To think—to losing thee I came so near.

SHADOWS

  Shadows! the only shadows that I know
    Are happy shadows of the light of you,
    The radiance immortal shining through
  Your sea-deep eyes up from the soul below;
    Your shadow, like a rose's, on the grass
    Where your feet pass.

  The shadow of the dimple in your chin,
    The shadow of the lashes of your eyes,
    As on your cheek, soft as a moth, it lies;
  And, as a church, I softly enter in
    The solemn twilight of your mighty hair,
    Down falling there.

  These are Love's shadows, Love knows none but these:
    Shadows that are the very soul of light,
    As morning and the morning blossom bright,
  Or jewelled shadows of moon-haunted seas;
    The darkest shadows in this world of ours
    Are made of flowers.

AFTER TIBULLUS

Illius est nobis lege colendus amor

  On her own terms, O lover, must thou take
    The heart's beloved: be she kind, 'tis well,
  Cruel, expect no more; not for thy sake
    But for the fire in thee that melts her snows
    For a brief spell
  She loves thee—"loves" thee! Though thy heart should break,
    Though thou shouldst lie athirst for her in hell,
      She could not pity thee: who of the Rose,
  Or of the Moon, asks pity, or return
      Of love for love? and she is even as those.
  Beauty is she, thou Love, and thou must learn,
    O lover, this:
  Thine is she for the music thou canst pour
      Through her white limbs, the madness, the deep dream;
    Thine, while thy kiss
      Can sweep her flaming with thee down the stream
    That is not thou nor she but merely bliss;
  The music ended, she is thine no more.

  In her Eternal Beauty bends o'er thee,
    Be thou content;
  She is the evening star in thy hushed lake
      Mirrored,—be glad;
    A soul-less creature of the element,
      Nor good, nor bad;
  That which thou callest to in the far skies
  Comes to thee in her eyes;
      That thou mayst slake
  Thy love of lilies, lo! her breasts! Be wise,
  Ask not that she, as thou, should human be,
    She that doth smell so sweet of distant heaven;
    Pity is mortal leaven,
  Dews know it not, nor morning on the hills,
    And who hath yet found pity of the sea
  That blesses, knowing not, and, not knowing, kills;
    And sister unto all of these is she,
  Whose face, as theirs, none reads; whose heart none knows;
    Whose words are as the wind's words, and whose ways,
      O lover, learn,
      Swerve not, or turn
    Aside for prayers, or broken-hearted praise:
  The young moon looks not back as on she goes.
  On their own terms, O lover!—Girl, Moon, Rose.

A WARNING

  We that were born, beloved, so far apart,
    So many seas and lands,
  The gods, one sudden day, joined heart to heart,
    Locked hands in hands,
  Distance relented and became our friend,
  And met, for our sakes, world's end with world's end.
  The earth was centred in one flowering plot
  Beneath thy feet, and all the rest was not.

  Now wouldst thou rend our nearness, and again
    Bring distance back, and place
  Poles and equators, mountain range and plain,
    Between me and thy face,
  Undoing what the gods divinely planned;
  Heart, canst thou part? hand, loose me from thy hand?
  Not twice the gods their slighted gifts bestow;
  Bethink thee well, beloved, ere thou dost go.

PRIMUM MOBILE

  When thou art gone, then all the rest will go;
    Mornings no more shall dawn,
  Roses no more shall blow,
    Thy lovely face withdrawn—
  Nor woods grow green again after the snow;
    For of all these thy beauty was the dream,
  The soul, the sap, the song;
    To thee the bloom and beam
  Of flower and star