Xxviii

Your feet as glad And light as a dove's homing wings, you came-- Came with your sweets to fill my hands, My sense with your perfume.

We closed with lips Grown weary and fain with longing from afar, The while your grave, enamoured eyes Drank down the dream in mine.

Till the great need So lovely and so instant grew, it seemed The embodied Spirit of the Spring Hung at me, heart on heart.