V
You said: “To make more sweet that which will be,
Let’s play a part together, you and I.
See!—I’m a monk, who, in his garden high,
Doth fast and pray to banish things worldly.
Down there you come, sad faced, dreaming of me.
I feel that you ’twixt flowering trees draw nigh;
I look not lest your lips let love flame high,
But, rising,—thus—I bless you prayerfully.”
Señor!—that tone!—Those gestures strange yet stern!
Tell me, where did you learn them? Tell me true!
Great God, Señor, an unfrocked priest are you!
No, no! No, no!—Enough, your kisses burn—
To-night—I swear it!—you shall be denied,
Grief-stricken glooms o’er us—The Crucified.