Ii

He heard the cocks crow out the lonely hours. How long the night! how far away the dawn! It seemed long months since he had seen the flowers, The leaves, the sunlight, and the bee-hived lawn; Had heard the thrush flute in the tangled showers.

His burning eyes ached, staring at the black Stolidity of midnight. Would God send No cool relief unto his mind,--a rack Of inquisition,--tortures to unbend, That stretched him forward and now strained him back?

Incomprehensible and undivulged, The thought that took him back, retraced their walks, Through woods, on which the sudden perfumes bulged, The bird-songs and the brilliant-blossomed stalks; And all the freedom which their talk indulged.

Oh, strong appeal! And he would almost yield; When, firmly forward, he could feel her fault Oppose the error of a rock-like shield, And to resisting phalanxes cry halt-- And, lo! bright cohorts broken on the field.

O mulct of morning! to the despot night Count down unminted gold, and let the day Walk free from dungeons of the dark; delight Herself on mountains of the violet ray, Clad in white maidenhood and morning white!

A melancholy coast, plunged deep in dream And death and silence, stretched the drowsy dark, Wherein he heard a round-eyed screech-owl scream, In lamentation, and a watch-dog bark, Vague as oblivion, lost in night’s deep stream.

And then hope moved him to divide the blinds To see if those bright sparkles were a star’s, Or but his feverish eyelids, which the mind’s Commotion weighed.--No hint of morning bars With glimmer heaven’s swart tapestry he finds.

So he remained, impatient, till the first Exploring crevices of Aztec morn, Dim cracks of treasure, Eldorados burst: Then could he face his cowardice and scorn His jealousy that thus his life had cursed.

Love knew no barriers now. And where he went Each woodland path was musical with birds; Each flow’r was richer, more divine of scent; For love sought love with such expressive words That dawn’s delivery was less eloquent.