She only, she only
Stands on the stars.
Her small hands grapple
Heaven's black bars.
Only her deep love
Pays the price
Of a sight of the vistas
Of paradise.
Each goblet may shatter,
Each tower may fall,
Low livid sunset
Darken on all—
In her soul's high tower
My love pours wine,
And the glory and the power
Of the stars are mine!
RECOGNITION
Like the twilight blowing over sunset water
Under high holy hills purple-mirrored in a mere,
Quietly and smiling, my dear love brought her
Heart to my heart, and through the dusk drew near;
Drew to me near, drew my brows up to the tender
Caress of her hands. And I lifted up my eyes
To hers, and deep within them saw a silent splendor
More still, more strange than the planets' in the skies.
Each gazed on each. O what is mortal seeing
To the glory of that depth, to the glory of that height
Through veils revealed, when all the gates of being
Burst open to a torrent of such blinding light!
Yes, and here I stand warped by life's derision,
A mountebank grimacing lest at last I weep.
What man could tell that I had ever seen a vision
More wonderful than any on the steeps of sleep?
Days come, days go, as the clock ticks hours.
Years loom, years pass; the shadows rise….
Like the twilight breathing over holy flowers
Once my love drew near. And I lifted up my eyes….
TRIBUTE
Remembering one woman I have seen
And have known,
Benignant eyes, nobility of mien,
A scarf from off a perfect shoulder blown,
Solicitude, white ardor in a face,
Motions like water under the moon's grace,—
I wonder much how men can be so base,
So worse than stone.