AMBERGRIS 
69 
Her chaste lips flame, as flames aspire 
Of poppies in mid-June. 
 
She lifts the eyelids amethyst, 
And looks from half-shut eyes, 
Gleaming with miracles of mist, 
Grey shadows on blue skies ; 
And on her whole face sunrise kissed, 
Child-wonderment most wise. 
 
The whitest arms in all the earth 
Blush from the lilac bed. 
Like a young star even at its birth 
Shines out the golden head. 
Sad violets are the maiden girth, 
Pale flames night-canopied. 
 
O gentlest lady !  Lift those eyes, 
And curl those lips to kiss ! 
Melt my young boyhood in thy sighs, 
A subtler Salmacis ! 
Hike, in that peace, these ecstasies ; 
In that fair fountain, this ! 
 
She fades as starlight on the stream, 
As dewfall in the dell ; 
All life and love, one ravishing gleam 
Stolen from sleep’s crucible ; 
That kiss, that vision is a dream :— 
And I—most miserable ! 
 
Still Echo wails upon the steep, 
“ To love—and to forget ! ” 
Still sombre whispers from the deep 
Sob through night’s golden net, 
And waft upon the wings of sleep 
The name of Margaret.