Little leaves laughed as I sped
After Rahab. Overhead
Two white doves were on the wing,
And I heard a throstle sing.
Where my feet fell on the brown,
Furrowed vineyard, shaken down
By her body from the vine,
Grapes were crushed to make me wine!
Day was gazing from the west
On high Hermon with confessed
Love of her whose ample brow
Crimsoned; and from every bough
Twilight twitterings were heard.
How my pulses leaped and stirred—
Wild with longing for her lips,
Like two red pomegranate pips!
I stretched forth my hands and cried:
"Rahab!" and she turned aside
From the vineyard where a wood
Near a purple wine-press stood.
There she paused and looked on me,
Laughing: "Boy, what do you see
In my eyes, you tremble so?"
"Fate!" I answered. "Could you know,
"Rahab, what is in my heart,
You would pity, you would part
With one kiss and one caress
Here beside the purple press!"
"Boy," she murmured, "gossips say
Rahab's poisoned lips will slay
Whom she kisses; that her breasts
Are two hidden adders' nests!"
"Though I die upon your mouth,
Kiss me, Rahab! for the drouth
Of the desert makes my soul
Empty as an empty bowl.
"Dreary days of journeying
Where the sands go billowing
Miles and miles beneath the sun
Leave me broken and undone.