DIANA with her limbs of dream, Her wavering heart of lily-stuff, For long had mocked me with the gleam Too sweet, and yet not sweet enough. Hundreds of times my fevered hands Had fallen almost on the slope Of shoulder that was swift to be At once the pulse and death of hope. Stayed by her hair in hazels caught, She fed my blood with honeydew, And turning for a second showed Her deep-down eyes of larkspur blue. So near her lips, I smelled the breath Could shame the bush of lavender, Till all my body rang a peal Of lovely bells in praise of her. But as I stretched my arms to take The Goddess from the hazel snare, Once more with laughter she was gone, Once more she frolicked otherwhere, O'erleaped a streamlet's gush of blue And left me quivering as I thought How nearly had the dream come true. But as I follow wideawake The fragrant girl without a name Who at the edge of being runs Between the light and dark, and calls Across the distance for my sake, So in the courses of my dreams I hunted tireless, and beheld The Goddess in a thousand gleams Flash on her woodland way unquelled, And sometimes on a hillock stand, Horn-shaping there a sun-kissed hand To set against her lips and blow Across the whitebells' dancing snow, To keep me to my hunting true, The music of a girl's halloo. Sometimes she held her bosom close Against the beech-tree's flank of grey, And joyed to watch me bear the chase Beyond the marvel of her face, Till it was safe again to use The same, or else some other, ruse: As when in hyacinths she pressed Upon a couch of earth the breast Had wisely mingled snow and sun To shake thy heart, Endymion! Or when among the ferns she drooped Her lovely length, and slyly stooped To watch me eagerly employ My eyes to sack a leafy Troy; Or when she used divinely well Her royal right of miracle, Changing her body into stone, To ivy-spray her glittering zone, And making mosses of her hair. E'en as I rested by the rock The buried beauties in a flock Rushed back again to flesh, and flew Along a pathway out of view, While back to me the Goddess sent Through lovely hand to horn-shape bent The music of a girl's halloo. And once she floated sweet and cool, To lilies changing, in a pool. Then, since the blossoms did appear Too splendid for the plant to bear— Strange flowering of Diana's hair!— I waded down the talking stream Toward the cups of golden beam. Sudden the blooms together leapt To make a mass of hair was swept By Zephyr to the shoulders bright, And in a flash I saw the leaves In curves of loveliness unite, And next the Goddess leap to land, Shake little rainbows on the strand, Lift to her mouth a horn-shaped hand, Then in the foliage rush away To try once more her cunning play. By early morn the chase was done. I woke. My room was kissed by sun, And birds about the neck of day Were hanging pearls of roundelay. Aroused, I watched the fading gleam Of all had glittered in my dream, And thought how in my waking hours My heart went hunting ceaselessly Surprises, hopings, tricks, and flowers, Because I follow wideawake A fragrant girl without a name Who at the edge of being runs Between the light and dark, and calls Across the distance for my sake. She is the hopeless touched by Hope; For thus on man the cheat is played That helps him hour by hour to cope Against his dooming, undismayed. Deep in the heart of him there glows A spark by which he warms his soul, Believing faintly that his part Is somehow blessed beyond the whole. He makes a garden rich in flowers, In rainbows, nightingales, and streams, In which he spends his lotos-hours Beneath a sky in tune with dreams. 'Tis not a mother he creates In fancy for his blessing there, But with his wanting self he mates The girl of joy without compare. For her he plucks forbidden fruit, For her he leaves his paradise, For her he bends his aching eyes Along the edge of world, and, mute, A thousand times in spirit dies. For though he carry from the vale Nor rose's bud nor nightingale, No whit he minds the Angel's blade, That cannot keep him from his maid. So in the rougher world he fares Among his blisses and despairs, Compelled to treasure in the heart A deathless hoping that his part Is somehow blessed beyond the whole, And searching thicket, stream, and bole While hunting, hunting ceaselessly Surprises, tremblings, tricks, and flowers, Because he follows wideawake A fragrant girl without a name Who at the edge of being runs Between the light and dark, and calls Across the distance for his sake. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CONVERGENCE OF THE TWAIN; LINES ON LOSS OF THE TITANIC by THOMAS HARDY THE FOUNTAIN by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE HARVARD DECLARES WAR by BRENT DOW ALLINSON PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 64. AL-KAIYUM by EDWIN ARNOLD |