Page:The Garden of Years.djvu/63



You are the magnet moon, and I the sea,

Cradling her face, climbing to catch more clear

The image of her pure tranquillity:

You are the west-wind, mistress of the lea,

And I the reed, that bows when she is near:

You are the spring, and I the obedient year

Whose soul awakens where her footfalls go:

You are the stream, and I a leaf, to veer

Where’er the singing current choose to flow:—

O light and breath, perfume and melody!

I love you for your lips the rose hath kissed—

Your cheeks, more tender than arbutus blooms;

For those half-hidden veins of amethyst

In your white throat, and for the tender mist

That clouds your eyes, as haze the autumn glooms:

For that faint subtle fragrance which perfumes

The soft bewitching tangle of your hair;

For your low laughter in the darkening rooms,

Where our instinctive hands lie linked, and where

Daylight and dark keep transitory tryst!