And sang; till Earth and Heaven were
A far, forgotten memory;
For more than Heaven seemed hid in her
To me:—
Sleep, sweeter than love's face or home;
Love, more than immortality;
And music of the dreamy foam
For me.
Pass over her with all thy ships
With all thy stormy tides, O sea!
The memory of immortal lips
For me!
A DREAM SHAPE
With moon-white hearts that held a gleam,
I gathered wild flowers in a dream,
And shaped a woman, whose sweet blood
Was odor of the wildwood bud.
From dew, the starlight arrowed through,
I wrought a woman's eyes of blue;
The lids, that on her eyeballs lay,
Were rose-pale petals of the May.
I took the music of the breeze,
And water whispering in the trees,
And shaped the soul that breathed below
A woman's blossom breasts of snow.
Out of a rose-bud's veins I drew
The fragrant crimson beating through
The languid lips of her, whose kiss
Was as a poppy's drowsiness.
Out of the moonlight and the air
I wrought the glory of her hair,
That o'er her eyes' blue heaven lay
Like some gold cloud o'er dawn of day.