Page:The Yellow Book - 01.djvu/262

242 And thus new shapes of Love where'er we went
 * Started to life at every stroke of oar,
 * And each were cradled in an amorous thought;

Not more than now this spirit should adore;
 * That none the less doth constantly lament
 * It cannot worship as it would and ought.

Before long, however, the pangs of separation overcome this elation of spirit, while he is not yet afraid of being forgotten:—

Like lightning shining forth from east to west,
 * Hurled are the happy hours from morn to night,
 * And leave the spirit steeped in undelight

In like proportion as themselves were blest. Slow move sad hours, by thousand curbs opprest,
 * Wherewith the churlish Fates delay their flight;
 * Those, impulses of Mercury incite,

These lag at the Saturnian star's behest. While thou wert near, ere separation's grief
 * Smote me, like steeds contending in the race,
 * My days and nights with equal speed did run:

Now broken either wheel, not swift the pace
 * Of summer's night though summer's moon be brief;
 * Or wintry days for brevity of sun.

Now that the Sun hath borne with him the day,
 * And haled dark Night from prison subterrene,
 * Come forth, fair Moon, and, robed in light serene,

With thy own loveliness the world array. Rh