Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/282

 And some have said my mother was a fairy, Though I believe it not." "Why not believe it?" Said Merlin; "I believe it. I believe Also that you divine, as I had wished, In my surviving ornament of office A needless imposition on your wits, If not yet on the scope of your regard. Even so, you cannot say how old I am, Or yet how young. I'm willing cheerfully To fight, left-handed, Hell's three headed hound If you but whistle him up from where he Jives; I'm cheerful and I'm fierce, and I've made kings; And some have said my father was the Devil, Though I believe it not. Whatever I am, I have not lived in Time until to-day." A moment's worth of wisdom there escaped him, But Yivian seized it, and it was not lost. Embroidering doom with many levities, Till now the fountain's crystal silver, fading, Became a splash and a mere chilliness, They mocked their fate with easy pleasantries That were too false and small to be forgotten, And with ingenious insincerities That had no repetition or revival. At last the lady Vivian arose, And with a crying of how late it was Took Merlin's hand and led him like a child Along a dusky way between tall cones Of tight green cedars: "Am I like one of these? You said I was, though I deny it wholly." "Very," said Merlin, to his bearded lips Uplifting her small fingers. "O, that hair!"