Ah, me, 'tis sad!
And sorrow's hand as well as mine has been
Among these golden curls. 'Tis past, 'tis past;
It has dissolved, as did the bank of cloud
That lay in the west last night.
WALTER.
I yearned for love,
As earnestly as sun-cracked summer earth
Yearns to the heavens for rain—none ever came.
VIOLET.
Oh, say not so! I love thee very much;
Let me but grow up like a sweet-breathed flower
Within this ghastly fissure of thy heart!
Do you not love me, Walter?
WALTER.
By thy tears
I love thee as my own immortal soul.
Weep, weep, my Beautiful! Upon thy face
There is no cloud of sorrow or distress.
It is as moonlight, pale, serene, and clear.
Thy tears are spilt of joy, they fall like rain
From heaven's stainless blue.
Bend over me, my Beautiful, my Own.
Oh, I could lie with face upturned for ever,
And on thy beauty feed as on a star!
[Another pause.
Thy face doth come between me and the heaven—
Start not, my dearest! for I would not give
Thee in thy tears for all yon sky lit up
For a god's feast to-night. And I am loved!
Why did you love me, Violet?
VIOLET.
The sun
Smiles on the earth, and the exuberant earth
Returns the smile in flowers—'twas so with me.
I love thee as a fountain leaps to light—
I can do nothing else.
WALTER.