Page:Poems, Household Edition, Emerson, 1904.djvu/141

Rh They are his steeds, and not his feature;

Inquisitive, and fierce, and fasting,

Restless, predatory, hasting;

And they pounce on other eyes

As lions on their prey;

And round their circles is writ,

Plainer than the day,

Underneath, within, above,—

Love—love—love—love.

He lives in his eyes;

There doth digest, and work, and spin,

And buy, and sell, and lose, and win;

He rolls them with delighted motion,

Joy-tides swell their mimic ocean.

Yet holds he them with tautest rein,

That they may seize and entertain

The glance that to their glance opposes,

Like fiery honey sucked from roses.

He palmistry can understand,

Imbibing virtue by his hand

As if it were a living root;

The pulse of hands will make him mute;

With all his force he gathers balms

Into those wise, thrilling palms.

Cupid is a casuist,

A mystic and a cabalist,—

Can your lurking thought surprise,

And interpret your device.