THE SEVENTEENTH DAY
71
Might shelter love in some wave-carven tomb.| Of man and maid in all the world
But Maytime shone in us; with words Is stilled the swift caress,
of art Because my lover has me curled
I drew her down reluctant to my heart, In her own loveliness.
When night was silence and my bed| No kiss be such a night as this !—
the gloom. Unless my Alice be the kiss.
So without sin we took strange sacrament, No blade of grass awaiting takes
Whose wine was kisses, and whose bread The dew, fresh-fallen above,
the flower Because my lover swoons, and slakes
Of fast and fervent cleaving breast to Her body’s thirst of love.
breast. This night no dewfall from the blue !—
As lily bends to lily we were bent, Unless my Alice be the dew.
Not t : all th
° inwer man fo womans 3 “| This night—O never dawn shall crest
Of martyred Virgins crowned our dan- The world of wakening,
Because my lover has my breast
gerous quest. :
On hers for dawn and spring.
This night shall never be withdrawn—
Unless my Alice be the dawn.
ALICE.
THE roses of the world are sad, THE SEVENTEENTH DAY.
The water-lilies pale, “
B lover takes her lad . Now I want
ecause my . Spirits to enforce, art to enchant.”
Beneath the moonlight veil. Tempest.
No flower may bloom this happy hour—
Unless my Alice be the flower.
The stars are hidden in dark and mist,
The moon and sun are dead,
Because my love has caught and kissed
My body in her bed.
No light may shine this happy night—
Unless my Alice be the light.
So silent are the thrush, the lark !
The nightingale’s at rest,
‘Because my lover loves the dark,
And has me in her breast.
No song this happy night be heard !—
Unless my Alice be the bird.
The sea that roared around the house
- - Ts fallen from alarms,
Because my lover calls me spouse,
And takes me to her arms.
This night no sound of breakers be !—
Unless my Alice be the sea.
LasT night—but the boy shrieked in’s sleep
—then, there
I had ended all!
track
That leads from green or white-crowned
hours to black,
The pleasant portals of the scorpion
snare,
First gleaming toils of an enchantress’ hair
That afterward shall change their fer-
vours slack
To strong gripe of a devil-fish: go back ?
The hand is put forth to the plough—
beware !
Having ingressed the
I took my shrine down :! at the night we lay
Four hours debating between fear andsin:
Whether our love went deeper than the
skin,
1 Meaning that spiritual work was aban-
doned for the moment, and that he wished to
use the room for a profane purpose.