Orpheus

First light of moonrise! Then, as June Leaps out of May, her lips took tune To song most soft, a spiral spell, A siren breathing in a shell. The notes were clustered round the well Like angels clustering round a god. Let memory wake from its abode Of dim precision lost for long The grace and grandeur of the song! Who art thou, love, by what sweet name I quicken ? By whom, O love, my soul is subtly stricken? O Love, O Love, I linger On the dear word and know not any meaning, Nor why I chant; there is a whisper weaning My soul from depths I knew to depths I guess, Centred in two words only: ‘“‘ Love” and “ Yes.” What lyrist’s gentle finger Strikes out a note, a key, a chord unheard of? What voice intones a song I know no word of ? Who am I, Love, and where? What is the wonder of this troublous singing? What is the meaning of my spirit’s clinging Still to the two sweet words: repeat, repeat ! “Yes, Love” and “Yes, Love!” Oh the murmur sweet! The fragrance in the air! I know not, I ; amid the choral gladness Steals an essential tremor as of sadness, A grace-note to the bosom 144