THE THIRTY-SIXTH DAY 
 
“ ’Twas not their infirmity, 
It was married chastity.” 
Phœnix and Turtle. 
 
Yet ere the stars paled slowly in the east 
I could not sleep :  and she—how else ?  What rest 
May a man know until his quiet breast 
Beats to her tune ?  I garbed me as a priest 
And moved towards my Host—on God I feast ! 
We lay in naked chastity, caressed 
Child-like or dreaming, till the dawn repressed 
Our sighs :  that nuptial yet hath never ceased.  
 
That was the best :  far sundered by the tide 
Dolorous, endless as Oceanus, 
A serpent-river girdling the large earth, 
Still in that pure embrace we bring to birth 
A thousand pleasant children born of us, 
Sacred and sinless, if unsanctified. 
 
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