VII
But when I’m worn and weary and would rest,
And in my ears the storm sounds vaguely far,
The lightnings fireless as that far night star,
Then fold me in your arms, upon your breast.
O! fold me in your arms! There let me rest,
To watch, idly, the fleeing Storm-God’s car,
Rain-mist so soft it may not mark nor mar
The lily’s leaf—when sleep and dreams are best.
Then on my eyes like rain let kisses fall,
Soft rain that maketh to be sweet the Spring,
And Winter fields like pink pearls shimmering.
The bridal veil of mist fall over all!
From under, as shy crocuses do peep,
New love shall bud and blossom while I sleep.