Page:The New Penelope.djvu/283

Rh How very sweet such hours must be

With one we love. At that word he

Shook like the aspen overhead:

"Must be!" he drew me from the shade,

To read my face to show his own:

"Say are, dear Maud!"—my tongue was stayed;

My pliant limbs seemed turned to stone.

He held my hands I could not move—

The nerveless palms together prest—

And clasped them tightly to his breast;

While in my heart the question strove.

The fire-flies flashed like wandering stars—

I thought some sprang from out his eyes:

Surely some spirit makes or mars

At will our earthly destinies!

"Speak, Maud!"—at length I turned away:

He must have thought it woman's fear;

For, whispering softly in my ear

Such gentle thanks as might allay

Love's tender shame; left on my brow,

And on each hand, a warm light kiss—

I feel them burn there even now—

But all my fetters fell at this.

I spoke like an injured queen:

It's our own defence when we're surprised—

The way our weakness is disguised;

I said things that I could not mean,

Or ought not—since it was a lie

That love had not been in my mind:

'Twas in the air I breathed; the sky

Shone love, and murmured it the wind.

It had absorbed my soul with bliss;

My blood ran love in every vein,

And to have been beloved again