1905 · CLOSE READING
Collected Works (Vol. I)
Collected Works (Vol. I) (1905), PDF p. 195
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188
THE TEMPLE OF THE HOLY GHOST
I left the presence. Now the buffeting wind
Gladdens my face--I leave the court be-
hind.
Am I stark mad?
Pave 5
Y see—O Mary Mother, speak and save!
I stare and stare until mine eyes are blind—
There was no jewel in the ring she gave ! |
My face grows grim and
Oh! my pure heart! Adulterous love
began
So subtly to identify the man
With its own perfumed thoughts.
the grape
Into the furtive brain—-a spirit shape
Kisses my spirit as no woman can.
1 love her—yes; and I have no escape.
So steals
I never spoke, I never looked! But she
Saw through the curtains of the soul of me,
And loved me also! It is very well.
Tam well started on the road to Hell.
Loved, and no sin done! Ay, the world
shall] see
The quest is first—a love less terrible.
Yet, as I ride toward the edge of snow
That cuts the blue, I think. Jor even so
Comes reason to me: ‘‘ Oh, return, return!
What folly is it for two souls to burn
With hell’s own fire! What is this quest
of woe?
What is the end? Consider and discern !”’
Banish the thought!
still
Is the rebellious vassal to my will,
Because I will it. That is God’s own mind.
I cast all thought and prudence to the
wind :
On, to the quest !
Mocks on, on,
behind.
My working reason
The cursed parrot hill
on! The thought is left
1 ‘The gift of a wedding ring is of course
typical of the supreme surrender on the part
of a married woman.
Night came upon me thus—a wizard hand
Grasping with silence the reluctant land.
Through night I clomb~--behind me grew
the light
Reflected in the portal of the night.
I reach the crest at dawn-—pallid I stand,
Uncomprehending of the sudden sight.
The river and the bridge! The river flows,
Tears of young orphans for its limpid woes.
The red bridge quivers--how my spirit
starts,
Its seeming glory built of widows’ hearts !
And yet I could disdain it-—heaven knows
[ had no dear ones for their counterparts.
Yet the thought chilled meas I touched the
reins.
Ah! the poor horse, he will not.
mains,
Divided in his love. With mastered tears
I stride toward the parapet. My ears
Catch his low call; and now a song com-
plains.
The bridge is bleeding and the river hears.
So re-
Ah! God! I cannot live for pity deep
Of that heart-quelling chant—I could not
sleep
Ever again to think of it. I close
My hearing with my fingers. Gently goes
A quivering foot above them as they weep—
I weep, I also, as the river flows.
Slowly the bridge subsides, and J am flung
Deep in the tears and terrors never sung.
I swim with sorrow bursting at my breast.
Yet Iam cleansed, and find some little rest.
Still from my agonised unspeaking tongue
Breaks: I must go, go onward to the quest.
Again the cursed cry: ‘* What quest is this?
Is it worth heaven in thy lover’s kiss?
A queen, a queen, to kiss and never tire !
Thy queen, quick-breathing for your twin
desire !”
I shudder, for the mystery of bliss;
I go, heart crying and a soul on fire !
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