Strange, that the thing I am should know The fulness and the perfect flower Of that old self, long lives ago! ... -- It must be, when the flesh has died, The sould turns sunward a new side, And old lights darken. So that hour By its own soul-fire glimmers through -- I wrought such glory out of you As death was frail to overpower! I was just entering the hall To greet my captive.... All before Blurs into gloom beyond recall -- Until I see you standing there, The slant light maddened in your hair, And in your eyes no fear. Once more I breathe deep, hear my scabbard ring On the brown stones, and feel the sting Of the salt breeze through the high door. I claimed you mine. You railed, and scoffed. -- Your lover must be near at last -- And all the while, I thought how soft That grand white breast of yours would feel Close-crushed against my linked steel.... You laughed. A sudden passion-blast Shook all my blood into one fire, And in a glory of desire I caught at you, and held you fast. Under my kisses and my strength You raved. Almost I feared you, when You tried to blind me. Then, at length, You changed: the hero-mother rose Into your golden eyes; close, close You held me, kissed me once -- and then Folk shouted, and a trumpet blew Loudly. I reeled forth, drunk with you, To struggle in the press of men. They must have slain me in that fight. There was a ship with a high prow, And a man's face, foam-lipped and white.... Then the veil falls, and leaves me -- here: Worthless, with none to hold me dear, No quiet hand upon my brow -- I am but half a man alone! ... And you, that once were all my own, Ah, Golden-Eyes, where are you now? |