XXI
Eadem Semper
How shall I hold you? By a scimitar
Of flashing wit suspended o’er your head,
Oh, my Beloved? Or with lips rose-red
Lure you to Lethe? Shall I stand afar,
Pale and remote and distant as a star,
Challenging love? Or by a scarlet thread
Jealousy’s wiles, beguile by scorn and dread?
Wounding the heart I love with hateful scar.
Nay, I can take no action, play no play;
All my wit falters when I hear you speak,
All my wise guile with which your wooing strove
Vanishes as the sun of yesterday.
I can but lay my cheek against your cheek—
Love me or leave me, I can only love.
XXII
To a Woman
Take all of me, pour out my life as wine,
To dye your soul’s sweet shallows. Violent sin
Blazed me a path, and I have walked therein,
Strong, unashamed. Your timorous hands need mine,
As the white stars their sky, your lips’ pale line
Shall blush to roses where my lips have been.
I ask no more. I do not hope to win—
Only to add myself to your design.