Xvi

“One evening when I came to talk with you, Impatience hurt me in your brief replies. And I who had refused,--because we dread Approaching horror of our lives made maimed,-- The inevitable, could not help but see Some change in you to’ards me.--That night I dreamed I wandered ’mid old ruins, where the snake And scorpion crawled in poison-spotted heat; Plague-bloated bulks of hideous vine and root Wrapped fallen fanes; and bristling cacti bloomed Blood-red and death-white on forgotten tombs. And from my soul went forth a bitter cry That pierced the silence that was packed with death And pale presentiment. And so I went, A white flame beckoning before my face, And in my ears sounds of primordial seas That boasted preadamic gods and men: A flame before me and, beyond, a voice: But, lo, the white flame when I reached for it Became thin ashes like a dead man’s dust; And when I thought I should behold the sea, Stagnation, turned to filth and rottenness, Rolled out a swamp: the voice became a stench.

If we should pray together now For sunshine and for rain, And thou shouldst get fair weather now, And I the clouds again, Would ray and rain keep single, Or for the rainbow mingle?

Dear, if this should be made to me, That I had asked for light, And God had given shade to me, And all to thee that’s bright, Wouldst thou go by with scorning, Refusing darkness morning?

If all my life were winter, love, And all thy life were spring, And mine with frost should splinter, love, While thine with birds should sing, Wouldst thou walk past and glitter, Forgetful mine is bitter?