Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/889

 Down on you, near and yet more near, Till flesh must fade for heaven was here!— Thus leant she and linger'd—joy and fear! Thus lay she a moment on my breast.

Then we began to ride. My soul Smooth'd itself out, a long-cramp'd scroll Freshening and fluttering in the wind. Past hopes already lay behind. What need to strive with a life awry? Had I said that, had I done this, So might I gain, so might I miss. Might she have loved me? just as well She might have hated, who can tell! Where had I been now if the worst befell? And here we are riding, she and I.

Fail I alone, in words and deeds? Why, all men strive and who succeeds? We rode; it seem'd my spirit flew, Saw other regions, cities new, As the world rush'd by on either side. I thought,—All labour, yet no less Bear up beneath their unsuccess. Look at the end of work, contrast The petty done, the undone vast, This present of theirs with the hopeful past! I hoped she would love me; here we ride.

What hand and brain went ever pair'd? What heart alike conceived and dared? What act proved all its thought had been? What will but felt the fleshly screen? We ride and I see her bosom heave.