Not a whisper heaved the woven woof of those warm trees: All the little leaves lay flat, unmoved of bird or breeze: Day was losing light all round, by indolent degrees.
Underneath the brooding branches, all in holy shade, Unseen hands of mountain things a mossy couch had made: There asleep among pale flowers my beloved was laid.
Slipping down, a sunbeam bathed her brows with bounteous gold, Unmoved upon her maiden breast her heavy hair was roll'd, Her smile was silent as the smile on corpses three hours old. "O God!" I thought, "if this be death, that makes not sound nor stir." My heart stood still with tender awe, I dared not waken her, But to the dear God, in the sky, this prayer I did prefer:
"Grant, dear Lord, in the blessed sky, a warm wind from the sea, Then shake a leaf down on my love from yonder leafy tree; That she may open her sweet eyes, and haply look on me."
The dear God, from the distant sea, a little wind releast, It shook a leaflet from the tree, and laid it on her breast, Her sweet eyes ope'd and looked on me. How can I tell the rest? O. M.
LXXXVII
LOVE CONFERS NOBILITY
He. Violet, little one mine, I would love thee, but thou art so small.
She. Love me, my love, from those heights of thine, And I shall grow tall, so tall, The pearl is small, but it hangs above The royal brow, and a kingly mind The quail is little, little, my love, But she leaves the hunter behind. O. M.