Once only, Love, will burn the blood-red fire;
But once awakeneth the wild desire;

Love pleadeth long, but what if love should tire!
Now shall we love, dear Love, or shall we wait!

The day is short, the evening cometh fast;
The time of choosing, Love, will soon be past;
The outer darkness falleth, Love, at last;

Love, let us love ere it be late

XII - DENIAL

too late!

WHEN some new thought of love in me is born,
Then swift I seek a token fair and meet
That may unblamed thy blessèd vision greet;
Whether it be a rose, not bloodless torn
From that June tree which hideth many a thorn,
Or but a simple, loving message, sweet
With summer's heart and mine, these at thy feet
I straightway fling; but all with maiden scorn
Thou spurnest. What to thee is token or sign,
Who dost deny the thing wherefor it stands!
Then I seem foolish in my sight and thine,
Like one who eager proffers empty hands.
Thou only callest these my gifts unfine,
While men are praising them in distant lands.

XIII "ONCE WHEN WE WALKED WITHIN A SUMMER FIELD"

ONCE when we walked within a summer field

I pluckt the flower of immortality,

And said, "Dear Love of mine, I give to thee
This flower of flowers of all the round year's yield!"

LISTENING TO MUSIC

19

'T was then thou stood'st, and with one hand didst

shield

Thy sun-dazed eyes, and, flinging the other free,
Spurned from thee that white blossom utterly.
But, Love, the immortal cannot so be killed.
The generations shall behold thee stand

Against that western glow in grass dew-wet →
Lord of my life, and lady of the land.

Nor maid nor lover shall the world forget,
Nor that disdainful wafture of thy hand.

Thou scornful! sun and flower shall find thee yet.

I LOVE her gentle forehead,
And I love her tender hair;
I love her cool, white arms,
And her neck where it is bare.

I love the smell of her garments;
I love the touch of her hands;

I love the sky above her,

And the very ground where she stands.

I love her doubting and anguish;

I love the love she withholds;

I love my love that loveth her
And anew her being molds.

XV .

- LISTENING TO MUSIC

WHEN on that joyful sea

Where billow on billow breaks; where swift waves follow

Waves, and hollow calls to hollow;

Where sea-birds swirl and swing,

And winds through the rigging shrill and sing;

Where night is one vast starless shade;
Where thy soul not afraid,

Tho' all alone unlonely,

Wanders and wavers, wavers wandering;

On that accursed sea

One moment only,

Forget one moment, Love, thy fierce content;

Back let thy soul be bent

Think back, dear Love, O Love, think back to me!

XVI-"A SONG OF THE MAIDEN MORN"

A SONG of the maiden morn,

A song for my little maid,

Of the silver sunlight born!

But I am afraid, afraid,
When I come my maid may be
Nothing, there, but a shade.

But O, her shadow is more to me
Than the shadowless light of eternity!

XVII - WORDS IN ABSENCE

I WOULD that my words were as my fingers,
So that my Love might feel them move
Slowly over her brow, as lingers

The sunset wind o'er the world of its love.

I would that my words were as the beating

Of her own heart, that keeps repeating

My name through the livelong day and the night; And when my Love her lover misses,

Longs for and loves in the dark and the light,

THISTLE-DOWN

I would that my words were as my kisses.
I would that my words her life might fill
Be to her earth, and air, and skies.

I would that my words were husht and still
Lost in the light of her eyes.

XVIII-SONG

THE birds were singing, the skies were gay;

21

I looked from the window on meadow and wood,
On green, green grass that the sun made white;
Beyond the river the mountain stood

Blue was the mountain, the river was bright;
I looked on the land and it was not good,
For my own dear Love she had flown away.

XIX-THISTLE-DOWN

FLY, thistle-down, fly

From my lips to the lips that I love!

Fly through the morning light,

Flee through the shadowy night,

Over the sea and the land,

Quick as the lark

Through twilight and dark,

Through lightning and thunder;

Till no longer asunder

We stand;

For thy touch like the lips of her lover

Moves her being to mine

We are one in a swoon divine!

Fly, thistle-down, fly

From my lips to the lips that I love!

XX-"O SWEET WILD ROSES THAT BUD

AND BLOW”

O SWEET wild roses that bud and blow
Along the way that my Love may go;
O moss-green rocks that touch her dress,
And grass that her dear feet may press;

O maple-tree whose brooding shade
For her a summer tent has made;
O goldenrod and brave sunflower
That flame before my maiden's bower;

O butterfly on whose light wings
The golden summer sunshine clings;
O birds that flit o'er wheat and wall,
And from cool hollows pipe and call;

O falling water whose distant roar
Sounds like the waves upon the shore;
O winds that down the valley sweep,
And lightnings from the clouds that leap;

O skies that bend above the hills;

O gentle rains and babbling rills;
O moon and sun that beam and burn

Keep safe my Love till I return!

XXI - THE RIVER

I KNOW thou art not that brown mountain-side,
Nor the pale mist that lies along the hills
And with white joy the deepening valley fills;
Nor yet the solemn river moving wide