Heard you ever Rahab's song,
You would murmur: "Surely wrong
Lives not in that lovely voice—
I with Rahab will rejoice!"
I came up the winding way
Through the vines at shut of day
Out of Orphir, bearing balms;
And I saw among the palms
Rahab wistful by the wall:
She was slender, she was tall,
And I trembled as her eyes
Turned on me in swift surprise.
Tyrian purple was her gown;
Gold her girdle; and a crown
Made of myrtle held her hair
Oval on her forehead fair;
Little sandals shod her feet.
Rahab, smiling, murmured: "Greet
You, my brother! Are you come,
Laden with sweet spice and gum,
"Out of Orphir?" and I said:
"Rahab!" All the evening shed
Light and perfume on her face
Turned to me, I paused a space,
Breathless. Nothing I could say
But her name. A dear dismay
Of her beauty made me mute,
Like a stringless harp or lute!
Then she laughed at me and flung
High her hands! She tipped her tongue
Saucily and danced along—
Feet in fellowship with song.
I pursued her through the vines
Growing where the bank confines
Jordan; followed her until
I forgot my master's will—
Master of the Caravan
Out of Orphir! As I ran,
Love arose and went with me
Through the grapes of Galilee!