Page:Tower of Ivory.djvu/43

Rh Beauty like storms driven Where my soul is caught, Peace like sorrow shriven Where my peace is wrought, Still I know thee riven Chained in me, low-brought, Wind that shakes my heaven, Rhythm of my thought.

My body and I, we rested Under a thorn one noon, We talked of days long wested And nights in the moon.

My body lay in shadow, Face in the grass, and said, "What thorn in what deep meadow Will blow when I'm dead? And how will you taste blueberries Bobbing in stolen milk, Or hear Baron Thrush to the cherries, Or touch spider silk?