He

More sweet the dusk for this is, For lips that meet in kisses.-- Come! come! why run from blisses As from a mortal foe?

5

She stands smiling at him. She speaks:

How many words in the asking! How easily I can grieve you!-- My "no" in a "yes" was a-masking, Nor thought, dear, to deceive you.-- A kiss?--the humming-bird happiness here In my heart consents.... But what are words, When the thought of two souls in speech accords? Affirmative, negative--what are they, dear? I wished to say "yes," but somehow said "no." The woman within me thought you would know Thought that your heart would hear.

He speaks:

So many hopes in a wooing!-- Therein you could not deceive me; Some things are sweeter for the pursuing-- I knew what you meant, believe me.-- Bunched bells of the blush pomegranate, to fix At your throat ... six drops of fire they are.... Will you look where the moon and its following star Rise silvery over yon meadow ricks? While I hold--while I lean your head back, so-- For I know it is "yes" though you whisper "no," And my kisses, sweet, are six.

6

Moths flutter around them. She speaks:

Look!--where the fiery Glow-worm in briery Banks of the moon-mellowed bowers Sparkles--how hazily Pinioned and arily Delicate, warily, Drowsily, lazily, Flutter the moths to the flowers.

White as the dreamiest Bud of the creamiest Rose in the garden that dozes, See how they cling to them! Held in the heart of their Hearts like a part of their Perfume they swing to them Wings that are soft as the roses.

Dim as the forming of Dew in the warming of Moonlight, they light on the petals; All is revealed to them; All--from the sunniest Tips to the honiest Heart, whence they yield to them Spice through the darkness that settles.

So to our tremulous Souls come the emulous Spirits of love; through whose power All that is best in us, All that is beautiful, All that is dutiful, Is made confessed in us, Even as the scent of a flower.

7

Taking her hand, he says:

What makes you beautiful? Answer, now, answer!-- Is it that dutiful Souls are all beautiful? Is't that romance or Beauty of spirit, Which souls of merit Of heaven inherit?-- Have you no answer?

She roguishly:

What makes you lovable? Answer, dear, answer!-- Is it not provable That man is lovable Just because chance or Nature makes woman Love him?--Her human Part's to illumine.-- Have you no answer?

8

Then, regarding him seriously, she continues:

Could I recall every joy that befell me There in the past with its anguish and bliss, Here in my heart it has whispered to tell me, Those were no joys like this.

Were it not well if our love could forget them Veiling the was with the dawn of the is? Dead with the past we should never regret them, Being no joys like this.

When they were gone and the Present stood speechful, Ardent in word and in look and in kiss, What though we know that their eyes are beseechful, Those were no joys like this.

Is it not well to have more of the spirit, Living for Futures where naught is amiss, Less of the flesh with the Past pining near it? Is there a joy like this?

9

Leaving the garden for the lane. He, with lightness of heart.

We will leave reason, Sweet, for a season; Reason were treason Now that the nether Spaces are clad, oh, In silvery shadow-- We will be glad, oh, Glad as this weather!

She, responding to his mood:

Heart unto heart, where the moonlight is slanted, Let us believe that our souls are enchanted:-- I in the castle-keep; you are the airy Prince who comes seeking me; Love is the Fairy Bringing our hearts together.