Page:Collected poems Robinson, Edwin Arlington.djvu/304

 Today as on the day I saw you first, All green, all wonderful" . . . He tore a leaf To pieces with a melancholy care That made her smile. "Why pause at 'wonderful' ? You've hardly been yourself since you came back From Camelot, where that unpleasant King Said things that you have never said to me." He looked upon her with a worn reproach: "The King said nothing that I keep from you." "What is it then?" she asked, imploringly; "You man of moods and miracles, what is it?" He shook his head and tore another leaf: "There is no need of asking what it is; Whatever you or I may choose to name it, The name of it is Fate, who played with me And gave me eyes to read of the unwritten More lines than I have read. I see no more Today than yesterday, but I remember. My ways are not the ways of other men; My memories go forward. It was you Who said that we were not in tune with Time; It was not I who said it." "But you knew it; What matter then who said it?" "It was you Who said that Merlin was your punishment For being in tune with him and not with Time- With Time or with the world; and it was you Who said you were alone, even here with Merlin; It was not I who said it. It is I Who tell you now my inmost thoughts." He laughed As if at hidden pain around his heart, But there was not much laughing in his eyes. They walked, and for a season they were silent: "I shall know what you mean by that," she said, "When you have told me. Here's an oak you like, And here's a place that fits me wondrous well