Chapter VI

Then where thy breasts are hollow
One kiss! one kiss! I go!
Sweet soul! a kiss to follow
Up whence thy breasts bud hollow,
Cheeks than wood-blossoms whiter,
Eyes than dark waters brighter
Wherein the far stars glow.
Look lovely when I leave thee!--
I go, my love, I go!
Look lovely, love, nor grieve thee,
That I must leave thee so.

MUSAGETES.

For the mountains' hoarse greetings came hollow
From stormy wind-chasms and caves,
And I heard their wild cataracts wallow
Huge bulks in long spasms of waves,
And that Demon said, "Lo! you must follow!
And our path is o'er myriads of graves."

Then I felt that the black earth was porous
And rotten with worms and with bones;
And I knew that the ground that now bore us
Was cadaverous with Death's skeletons;
And I saw horrid eyes, heard sonorous
And dolorous gnashings and groans.

But the night of the tempest and thunder,
The might of the terrible skies,
And the fire of Hell that,--coiled under
The hollow Earth,--smoulders and sighs,
And the laughter of stars and their wonder
Mingled and mixed in its eyes.

And we clomb--and the moon old and sterile
Clomb with us o'er torrent and scar!
And I yearned towards her oceans of beryl,
Wan mountains and cities of spar--
"'Tis not well," that one said, "you're in peril
Of falling and failing your star."

And we clomb--through a murmur of pinions,
Thin rattle of talons and plumes;
And a sense as of Boreal dominions
Clove down to the abysms and tombs;
And the Night's naked, Ethiope minions
Swarmed on us in legions of glooms.

And we clomb--till we stood at the portal
Of the uttermost point of the peak,
And it led with a step more than mortal
Far upward some presence to seek;
And I felt that this love was immortal,
This love which had made me so weak.

We had clomb till the limbo of spirits
Of darkness and crime deep below
Swung nebular; nor could we hear its
Lost wailings and moanings of woe,--
For we stood in a realm that inherits
A vanquishing virgin of snow.

THE QUARREL.

Could I divine how her gray eyes
Gat such cold haughtiness of skies;

How, some wood-flower's shadow brown,
Dimmed her fair forehead's wrath a frown;

How, rippled sunshine blown thro' air,
Tossed scorn her eloquence of hair;

How to a folded bud again
She drew her blossomed lips' disdain;

Naught deigning save eyes' utterance,
Star-words, which quicker reach the sense;

Then, afterwards, how melted there
The austere woman to one tear;

Then were I wise to know how grew
This star-stained miracle of blue,
How God makes wild flowers out of dew.

THE MOOD O' THE EARTH.

My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the warm wind sunnily blows;
My heart is high with a mood that's cheer,
And burns like a sun-blown rose.

My heart is high, is high, my dear,
And the Heaven's deep skies are blue;
My heart is high as the passionate year,
And smiles like a bud in dew.

My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
For wild is the smell o' the wood,
That gusts in the breeze with a pulse o' heat,
Mad heat that beats like a blood.

My heart, my heart is high, my sweet,
And the sense of summer is full;
A sense of summer,--full fields of wheat,
Full forests and waters cool.

My heart is high, is high, my heart,
As the bee's that groans and swinks
In the dabbled flowers that dart and part
To his woolly bulk when he drinks.

My heart is high, is high, my heart,--
Oh, sing again, O good, gray bird,
That I may get that lilt by heart,
And fit each note with a word.

God's saints! I tread the air, my dear!
Flow one with the running wind;
And the stars that stare I swear, my dear,
Right soon in my hair I'll find.

To live high up a life of mist
With the white things in white skies,
With their limbs of pearl and of amethyst,
Who laugh blue humorous eyes!

Or to creep and to suck like an elfin thing
To the aching heart of a rose;
In the harebell's ear to cling and swing
And whisper what no one knows!

To live on wild honey as fresh as thin
As the rain that's left in a flower,
And roll forth golden from feet to chin
In the god-flower's Danae shower!

Or free, full-throated curve back the throat
With a vigorous look at the blue,
And sing right staunch with a lusty note
Like the hawk hurled where he flew!

God's life! the blood of the Earth is mine!
And the mood of the Earth I'll take,
And brim my soul with her wonderful wine,
And sing till my heart doth break!

A GRAY DAY.

I.

Long vollies of wind and of rain
And the rain on the drizzled pane,
And the eve falls chill and murk;
But on yesterday's eve I know
How a horned moon's thorn-like bow
Stabbed rosy thro' gold and thro' glow,
Like a rich barbaric dirk.

II.

Now thick throats of the snapdragons,--
Who hold in their hues cool dawns,
Which a healthy yellow paints,--
Are filled with a sweet rain fine
Of a jaunty, jubilant shine,
A faery vat of rare wine,
Which the honey thinly taints.

III.

Now dabble the poppies shrink,
And the coxcomb and the pink;
While the candytuft's damp crown
Droops dribbled, low bowed i' the wet;
And long spikes o' the mignonette
Little musk-sacks open set,
Which the dripping o' dew drags down.

IV.

Stretched taunt on the blades of grass,
Like a gossamer-fibered glass,
Which the garden-spider spun,
The web, where the round rain clings
In its middle sagging, swings;--
A hammock for Elfin things
When the stars succeed the sun.

V.

And mark, where the pale gourd grows
Up high as the clambering rose,
How that tiger-moth is pressed
To the wide leaf's underside.--
And I know where the red wasps hide,
And the wild bees,--who defied
The first strong gusts,--distressed.

VI.

Yet I feel that the gray will blow
Aside for an afterglow;
And a breeze on a sudden toss
Drenched boughs to a pattering show'r
Athwart the red dusk in a glow'r,
Big drops heard hard on each flow'r
On the grass and the flowering moss.