Page:Darío - Eleven Poems.djvu/27

 Called me to follow her, and when she spoke It was as if a harp to the soft stroke Of loving hands had wakened suddenly: She syllabled hope's language, calling me.

Oh, thirst for the ideal! From the height Of a great mountain forested with night She showed me all the stars and told their names; It was a golden garden wherein grows The fleur-de-lys of heaven, leaved with flames. And I cried, "More!" and then the dawn arose.

The dawn came blushing; on her forehead beamed Delicate splendor, and to me it seemed A girl that, opening her casement, sees Her lover watching her, and with surprise Reddens but cannot hide her from his eyes.

And I cried, "More!" The faerie maiden smiled And called the flowers, and the flowers were Lovely and fresh and moist with essences,— The virgin rose that in the woods grows wild, The gentle lily tall and shy and fair, The daisy glad and timid as a child, Poppies and marigolds, and all the rare Blossoms that freight with dreams the evening air.

But I cried, "More!" And then the winds brushed by Bearing the laughter of the world, the cry Of all glad lovers in the woods of Spring, And echoes, and all pleasant murmuring 9]