Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/44

16 Of light and music. Lo! that traveler durst

Do nothing now but worship and fall down.

He thought to rest, as doth some tired clown

Who sinks in longed-for sleep, but there immersed

Finds restless vision on vision of beauty rare.

Moved by thy body's outer majesty

I entered in thy silent, sacred shrine;

'T was then, all suddenly and unaware,

Thou didst reveal, O, maiden Love! to me,

This beautiful, singing, holy soul of thine.

VIII—"THY LOVER, LOVE, WOULD HAVE SOME NOBLER WAY"

IX—LOVE'S JEALOUSY

other men I know no jealousy,

Nor of the maid who holds thee close, O, close!

But of the June-red, summer-scented rose,

And of the barred and golden sunset sky