56  
WHY JESUS WEPT. 
ANGELA. 
 
Ah, Percy, bend you over me !  Bend deep ! 
Kiss my own eyelids out of tender sleep 
Into exasperate love !  Bend close ! 
Fill me, thy golden rose, 
With dew of thy dear kisses ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
Ay, again ! 
Love, love, these raptures are like springtide rain 
Nesting among green leaves. 
 
ANGELA. 
 
The Lady of Love weaves 
Fresh nets of gossamer for thee and me. 
O take not back thy lips, even to sing ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
Come, rich, come overrolling ecstasy ! 
I am like to die with joy of everything. 
 
ANGELA. 
 
Die, then, and kiss me dead ! 
 
SIR PERCY. 
 
I die !  I die ! 
 
ANGELA. 
 
Thy flower-life is shed 
Into eternity, 
A waveless lake.