Page:The Complete Poems of Francis Ledwidge, 1919.djvu/150

144 Pulse on my wrist, a feeling like a pain

In my quick heart, for Love with gazes long

Was worshipping at Artemis, now lain

Among the heaving flowers ... I longed to dart

And fold her to my breast, nor saw the wrong.

She lay there, a tall beauty by her spear,

Her kirtle falling to her soft round knee.

Her hair was like the day when evening's near,

And her moist mouth might tempt the golden bee.

Smile's creases ran from dimples pink and deep,

And when she raised her arms I loved to see

The white mounds of her muscles. Gentle sleep

Threatened her far blue looks. The noisy weir

Fell into a low murmuring lullaby.