I drew near to my Love
Who saw me and sang
The song of the hunter
Home from the hunting.
The Babe at her breast she held up
And danced in her arms for his father—
Danced till he croodled and crowed,
Dimpled with joy of his father!
For them I builded a hut
Of saplings and wattles,
And she with her fingers
Fashioned bowls from the clay.
We dreamed as we toiled,
We sang as we dreamed;
And ever the task
Took the form of our song:
We dreamed that the wilderness
Blossomed; that the meadows
Thickened with ripening corn
Yellow and green in the noontide.
We sang of the millet and wheat,
Of the barley and rye
And the purple grape-clusters
Hanging down from the vine.
We sang of the flax
And the oil of the olive
After the time of the sound
Of the flails on the floor.
We dreamed that a city
Rose out of the jungle—
A city of towers and walls,
Of palaces, statues and pictures.
So great was our love
That, though we died,
By birth we came back
To keep tryst with each other!
She was proud Semiramis;
Helen of Troy was she;
Hers was the song of Miriam,
And the red-wet hands of Jael!