Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/303

 Where Merlin was a prisoner of love Confined within himself by too much freedom, Eepeating an unending exploration Of many solitary silent rooms, And only in a way remembering now That once their very solitude and silence Had by the magic of expectancy Made sure what now he doubted though his doubts, Day after day, were founded on a shadow. For now to Merlin, in his paradise, Had come an unseen angel with a sword Unseen, the touch of which was a long fear For longer sorrow that had never come, Yet might if he compelled it. He discovered, One golden day in autumn as he wandered, That he had made the radiance of two years A misty twilight when he might as well Have had no mist between him and the sun, The sun being Vivian. On his coming then To find her all in green against a wall Of green and yellow leaves, and crumbling bread For birds around the fountain while she sang And the birds ate the bread, he told himself That everything today was as it was At first, and for a minute he believed it. "I'd have you always all in green out here," He said, "if I had much to say about it." She clapped her crumbs away and laughed at him : "I've covered up my bones with every color That I can carry on them without screaming, And you have liked them all or made me think so."- "I must have liked them if you thought I did," He answered, sighing; "but the sight of you