My brows were wreathed, in purple I was dressed,
I bore a new bride's name,
A great star burned my breast.
No longer bound, I leaned the same sweet way
As even a great Queen may
Towards her lover. Now astonished I
Who was a beggar stand obediently
Beside Cophetua.
IN THE ORCHARD.
"I thought you loved me." "No, it was only fun."
"When we stood there, closer than all?" "Well, the harvest moon
"Was shining and queer in your hair, and it turned my head."
"That made you?" "Yes." "Just the moon and the light it made
"Under the tree?" "Well, your mouth, too." "Yes, my mouth?"
"And the quiet there that sang like the drum in the booth.
"You shouldn't have danced like that." "Like what?" "So close,
"With your head turned up, and the flower in your hair, a rose
"That smelt all warm." "I loved you. I thought you knew
"I wouldn't have danced like that with any but you."
"I didn't know. I thought you knew it was fun."
"I thought it was love you meant." "Well, it's done." "Yes, it's done.
"I've seen boys stone a blackbird, and watched them drown
"A kitten ... it clawed at the reeds, and they pushed it down
"Into the pool while it screamed. Is that fun, too?"
"Well, boys are like that ... Your brothers..." "Yes, I know.
"But you, so lovely and strong! Not you! Not you!"
"They don't understand it's cruel. It's only a game."
"And are girls fun, too?" "No, still in a way it's the same.
"It's queer and lovely to have a girl..." "Go on."
"It makes you mad for a bit to feel she's your own,
"And you laugh and kiss her, and maybe you give her a ring,
"But it's only in fun." "But I gave you everything."
"Well, you shouldn't have done it. You know what a fellow thinks
"When a girl does that." "Yes, he talks of her over his drinks
"And calls her a—" "Stop that now. I thought you knew."
"But it wasn't with anyone else. It was only you."
"How did I know? I thought you wanted it too.
"I thought you were like the rest. Well, what's to be done?"
"To be done?" "Is it all right?" "Yes." "Sure?" "Yes, but why?"
"I don't know. I thought you were going to cry.
"You said you had something to tell me." "Yes, I know.
"It wasn't anything really ... I think I'll go."
"Yes, it's late. There's thunder about, a drop of rain
"Fell on my hand in the dark. I'll see you again
"At the dance next week. You're sure that everything's right?"
"Yes." "Well, I'll be going." "Kiss me..." "Good night." ...
"Good night."
THE WOOD AND THE SHORE.
The low bay melts into a ring of silver,
And slips it on the shore's reluctant finger,
Though in an hour the tide will turn, will tremble,
Forsaking her because the moon persuades him.
But the black wood that leans and sighs above her
No hour can change, no moon can slave nor summon.
Then comes the dark; on sleepy, shell-strewn beaches,
O'er long, pale leagues of sand, and cold, clear water
She hears the tide go out towards the moonlight.
The wood still leans ... weeping she turns to seek him,
And his black hair all night is on her bosom.
THE TRYST.
I raised the veil, I loosed the bands,
I took the dead thing from its place.
Like a warm stream in frozen lands
My lips went wandering on her face,
My hands burnt in her hands.