Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/226

 Defeated quest of them that brushed her sight Like flying lint lint that had once been thread. . . . Yes, like an anodyne, the voice of him, There were the words that he had made for her, For her alone. The more she thought of them The more she lived them, and the more she knew The life-grip and the pulse of warm strength in them. They were the first and last of words to her, And there was in them a far questioning That had for long been variously at work, Divinely and elusively at work, With her, and with the grave that had been hers; They were eternal words. and they diffused A flame of meaning that men's lexicons Had never kindled; they were choral words That harmonized with love's enduring chords Like wisdom with release; triumphant words That rang like elemental orisons Through ages out of ages; words that fed Love's hunger in the spirit; words that smote; Thrilled words that echoed, and barbed words that clung ;- And every one of them was like a friend Whose obstinate fidelity, well tried, Had found at last and irresistibly The way to her close conscience, and thereby Revealed the unsubstantial Nemesis That she had clutched and shuddered at so long; And every one of them was like a real And ringing voice, clear toned and absolute, But of a love-subdued authority That uttered thrice the plain significance Of what had else been generously vague And indolently true. It may have been The triumph and the magic of the soul,