Collected Works (Vol. III)

52 ROSA MUNDI, AND OTHER LOVE-SONGS Of tingling light, and, gathering ever force From thine own love, its unextended source, Became the magic utterance that makes Me, Dissolving self into the starless sea That makes one lake of molten joy, one pond Steady as light and hard as diamond ; One drop, one atom of constraint intense, Of elemental passion scorning sense, All the concentred music that is I. O! hear me not! I die; I am borne away in misery of dumb life That would in words flash forth the holiest heaven That to the immortal God of Gods is given, And, tongue-tied, stammers forth—my wife ! 4. Iam dumb with rapture of thy loveliness. All metres match and mingle; all words tire; All lights, all sounds, all perfumes, all gold stress Of the honey-palate, all soft strokes expire In abject agony of broken sense To hymn the emotion tense Of somewhat higher—O! how highest !— than all Their mystery: fall, O fall, Ye unavailing eagle-flights of song ! O wife ! these do thee wrong. 5. Thou knowest how I was blind ; How for mere minutes thy pure presence Was nought ; was ill-defined; A smudge across the mind, Drivelling in its brutal essence, Hog-wallowing in poetry, Incapable of thee. 6. Ah! when the minutes grew to hours, And yet the beast, the fool, saw flowers And loved them, watched the moon rise, took delight In perfumes of the summer night, Caught in the glamour of the sun, Thought all the woe well won. How hours were days, and all the misery Abode, all mine: O thou ! didst thou regret? Wast thou asleep as I? Didst thou not love me yet? For, know ! the moon is not the moon until She hath the knowledge to fulfil Her music, till she know herself the moon.. So thou, soI! The stone unhewn, Foursquare, the sphere, of human _ hands immune, Was not yet chosen for the corner- piece And key-stone of the Royal Arch of Sex ; Unsolved the ultimate x ; The virginal breeding breeze Was yet of either unstirred ; Unspoken the Great Word. 7. Then on a sudden, we knew. From deep to deep Reverberating, lightning unto lightning Across the sundering brightening Abyss of sorrow’s sleep, There shone the sword of love, and struck, and clove The intolerable veil, The woven chain of mail Prudence self-called, and folly known to who May know. Then, O sweet drop of dew, Thy limpid light rolled over and was lost In mine, and mine in thine. Peace, ye who praise! ye but disturb the shrine ! This voice is evil over against the peace Here in the West, the holiest. Shaken and crossed The threads Lachesis wove fell from hands. The pale divided strands Were taken by thy master-hand, Eros ! Her evil thinkings cease, Thy miracles begin. Eros! Eros !—Be silent! It is sin Thus to invoke the oracles of orde. Their iron gates to unclose. The gross, inhospitable warder Of Love’s green garden of spice is well awake. Hell hath enough of Her _ three-headed hound ; But Love’s severer bound Knows for His watcher a more fearful shape, A formidable ape her