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Page 1 of 11903 · PDF PAGE 80
THE TWENTY-FIFTH DAY “ I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill.” Richard II. Alice was desperately ill at morn. Hour by sweet hour I watched her sorrowing, While the strong fever fought unconquering With native coolness of her life, o’er-worn Or poisoned ; thus I fought the long forlorn Battle all day, until the evening Brought back sweet health on sleep and noiseless wing : Strong love of the long battle was reborn. The child slept elsewhere that she might sleep well. Therefore, not fearing anything, I came ; Lit my love’s candle at her bo…
1903 · PDF PAGE 65
…s of the world are sad, The water-lilies pale, Because my lover takes her lad Beneath the moonlight veil. No flower may bloom this happy hour— Unless my Alice be the flower. The stars are hidden in dark and mist, The moon and sun are dead, Because my love has caught and kissed My body in her bed. No light may shine this happy night— Unless my Alice be the light. 45
1903 · PDF PAGE 60
…ss, stooping from thy sky Of peace and power ! Thine only be the embrace !— I move not from my place, Feel the exultant face Mine for an hour ! Mine, and for ever mine ; Dim glory in the shrine Of Artemis Endymion-lured to wine, And dove-looks Erycine, Flower-scented bliss ! O sweet ! O saint ! I swoon Beneath the guiding moon ; In thine embrace, the tune Of that one kiss. 40
1903 · PDF PAGE 37
Her stature waves, as if a flower Forgot the evening breeze, But heard the charioted hour Sweep from the farther seas, And kept sweet time within her bower, And hushed mild melodies. So grave and delicate and tall— Shall laughter never sweep Like a moss-guarded waterfall Across her ivory sleep ? A tender laugh most musical ? A sigh serenely deep ? She laughs in wordless swift desire A soft Thalassian tune ; Her eyelids glimmer with the fire That animates the moon ; Her chaste lips flame, as flames aspire Of poppies in mid-June. 15
1903 · PDF PAGE 63
…addening with sea-sounds, as of lute or shawm Fluting and clashing in extreme desire ; The silly “ Thus far and no farther,” nigher Each hour to break (poor arbitrary form !) As each kiss bade our bodies wed and warm Give love one chance before its wave retire. Not so : this trial was the tiniest Man ever knew, confronted afterward With giant fears and passions ;—long to fight And last to yield a Maenad-swelling breast Unto a furious Dionysian horde Drunk not with wine, but with avenging night. 43
1903 · PDF PAGE 91
…r fled from, changed the native deed of sin Into a spasmic kiss too salt and keen, Windless, that ended with a sterile sting The earlier hour whose heart was full of spring ; And the large love grew piteously lean ; Dreadful, like death ; withdrawn and epicene At the mad crisis of the eventful thing. O that such tender fondness like a flower’s Should take such nameless infamy ! That we Should pluck such bitter bloom, rooted in fear, Salt with the scurf of some diseaséd sea, Foul with the curse of God : that we are here, Hating the night’s inexo…
1903 · PDF PAGE 115
…no light leaps beneath the plunging prow, I know the fullness of my sorrow now :— That all my talk and laughter was a lie ; That as each hour widens the gulfs that sigh Between us ; the truth scores upon my brow Sigils of silence, burns in me the vow “ I love you, and shall love you till it die.’ Whether next year, as fondly we made oath Shall see us meet at least, whether as wife I shall at last gather the whole vow’s breath— Not heaven nor hell shall break our solemn troth. love you, and shall love you all my life. I love you, and shall love …
1903 · PDF PAGE 111
…the night we wandered Down deep lanes and in gardens, like lost souls. Strong kisses that had surfeited a score Of earthly bridals in an hour we squandered ; And tears like fire, and looks like burning coals, Without a word passed on for evermore. 91
1903 · PDF PAGE 10
…He is the Sophocles of manners,” I said, rewarded royally for months of weary waiting. My strange com- panion sat up transfigured. “ The Hour,” he murmured, “ and the Man ! . . . What of Tennyson ?” “ Which Tennyson ?” I asked. The answer seemed to please him. “ In Memoriam ?” he replied. “ He is a neurasthenic counter-jumper.” “ And of the Idylls ?” “ Sir Thomas did no wrong ; can impotence excuse his posthumous emasculation ?” vii
1903 · PDF PAGE 87
… flower ; ” Yet strayed enchanted on the lawns forbid, And bathed enamoured in the secret sea, Both knowing our words were spoken—for an hour. 67