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
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