AMBERGRIS 
79 
The sea’s deep kisses salt and keen ; 
The sea assumes the lunar light, 
And he—their eremite ! 
 
In their calm intercourse and kiss 
Even hell itself no longer is ; 
For nothing in their love abides 
That passes not beneath their tides, 
And who so bathes in light of theirs, 
And water, changes unawares 
To be no separate soul, but be 
Himself the moon and sea. 
 
Not all the wealth that flowers shed, 
And sacred streams on that calm head ; 
Not all the earth’s spell-weaving dream 
And scent of new-turned earth shall seem 
Again indeed his mother’s breast 
To breathe like sleep and give him rest ; 
He lives or dies in subtler swoon 
Between the sea and moon. 
 
So standing, gliding, undeterred 
By any her alluring word 
That calls from older forest glades, 
My soul forgets the gentle maids 
That wooed me in the scarlet bowers, 
And golden cluster-woof of flowers ; 
Forgets itself, content to be 
Between the moon and sea. 
 
No passion stirs their depth, nor moves ; 
No life disturbs their sweet dead loves ; 
No being holds a crown or throne ; 
They are, and I in them, alone : 
Only some lute-player grown star 
Is heard like whispering flowers afar ; 
And some divided, single tune 
Sobs from the sea and moon.