We seemed alone: but another
Bent o’er you with lips of flame,
Unknown, without a name,
Hated, and yet my brother.
Your one short moan of pain
Was an exorcising spell:
The devil flew back to hell;
We were alone again.
A LITTLE MEMORY.
WHITE in the moonlight,
Wet with dew,
We have known the languor
Of being two.
We have been weary
As children are,
When over them, radiant,
A stooping star,
Bends their Good-Night,
Kissed and smiled:—
Each was mother,
Each was child.
Child, from your forehead
I kissed the hair,
Gently, ah, gently:
And you were
Mistress and mother
When on your breast
I lay so safely
And could rest.
WAKING.
DARKNESS had stretched its colour,
Deep blue across the pane:
No cloud to make night duller,
No moon with its tarnish stain;
But only here and there a star,
One sharp point of frosty fire,
Hanging infinitely far
In mockery of our life and death
And all our small desire.