Page:Poems and ballads (IA poemsballads00swinrich).pdf/281

 A white space like a space of glass With golden candles over all.

I am the queen of Amalek, There was no tender touch or fleck To spoil my body or bared feet. My words were soft like dulcimers, And the first sweet of grape-flowers Made each-side of my bosom sweet. My raiment was as tender fruit Whose rind smells sweet of spice-tree root, Bruised balm-blossom and budded wheat.

I am the queen Ahinoam. Like the throat of a soft slain lamb Was my throat, softer veined than his: My lips were as two grapes the sun Lays his whole weight of heat upon Like a mouth heavy with a kiss: My hair's pure purple a wrought fleece, My temples therein as a piece Of a pomegranate’s cleaving is.

I am the queen Sidonian. My face made faint the face of man,