CANTO II

1More light. Another step, and still more lightOpening ahead. It swilled with soft excess,His eyes yet quivering from the dregs of night,And it was nowhere more and nowhere less:In it no shadows were. He could not guessIts fountain. Wondering round around he turned:Still on each side the level glory burned.2Far in the dome to where his gaze was lostThe deepening roof shone clear as stones that lieIn-shore beneath pure seas. The aisles, that crossedLike forests of white stone their arms on high,Past pillar after pillar dragged his eyeIn unobscured perspective till the sightWas weary. And there also was the light.3Look with my eyes. Conceive yourself aboveAnd hanging in the dome: and thence through spaceLook down. See Dymer, dwarfed and naked, move,A white blot on the floor, at such a paceAs boats that hardly seem to have changed placeOnce in an hour when from the cliffs we spyThe same ship always smoking towards the sky.4The shouting mood had withered from his heart;The oppression of huge places wrapped him round.A great misgiving sent its fluttering dartDeep into him—some fear of being found,Some hope to find he knew not what. The soundOf music, never ceasing, took the rôleOf silence and like silence numbed his soul.5Till, as he turned a corner, his deep aweBroke with a sudden start. For straight ahead,Far off, a wild eyed, naked man he sawThat came to meet him: and beyond was spreadYet further depth of light. With quickening treadHe leaped towards the shape. Then stopped and smiledBefore a mirror, wondering like a child.6Beside the glass, unguarded, for the claiming,Like a great patch of flowers upon the wallHung every kind of clothes: silk, feathers flaming,Leopard skin, furry mantles like the fallOf deep mid-winter snows. Upon them allHung the faint smell of cedar, and the dyesWere bright as blood and clear as morning skies.7He turned from the white spectre in the glassAnd looked at these. Remember, he had wornThro’ winter slush, thro’ summer flowers and grassOne kind of solemn stuff since he was born,With badge of year and rank. He laughed in scornAnd cried, “Here is no law, nor eye to see,Nor leave of entry given. Why should there be?8“Have done with that—you threw it all behind.Henceforth I ask no licence where I need.It’s on, on, on, though I go mad and blind,Though knees ache and lungs labour and feet bleed,Or else—it’s home again: to sleep and feed,And work, and hate them always and obeyAnd loathe the punctual rise of each new day.”9He made mad work among them as he dressed,With motley choice and litter on the floor,And each thing as he found it seemed the best.He wondered that he had not known beforeHow fair a man he was. “I’ll creep no moreIn secret,” Dymer said. “But I’ll go backAnd drive them all to freedom on this track.”10He turned towards the glass. The space looked smallerBehind him now. Himself in royal guiseFilled the whole frame—a nobler shape and taller,Till suddenly he started with surprise,Catching, by chance, his own familiar eyes,Fevered, yet still the same, without their shareOf bravery, undeceived and watching there.11Yet, as he turned, he cried, “The rest remain....If they rebelled ... if they should find me here,We’d pluck the whole taut fabric from the strain,Hew down the city, let live earth appear!—Old men and barren women whom through fearWe have suffered to be masters in our home,Hide! hide! for we are angry and we come.”12Thus feeding on vain fancy, covering roundHis hunger, his great loneliness arrayingIn facile dreams until the qualm was drowned,The boy went on. Through endless arches strayingWith casual tread he sauntered, manly playingAt manhood lest more loss of faith betide him,Till lo! he saw a table set beside him.13When Dymer saw this sight, he leaped for mirth,He clapped his hands, his eye lit like a lover’s.He had a hunger in him that was worthTen cities. Here was silver, glass and covers.Cold peacock, prauns in aspic, eggs of plovers,Raised pies that stood like castles, gleaming fishesAnd bright fruit with broad leaves around the dishes.14If ever you have passed a café doorAnd lingered in the dusk of a June day,Fresh from the road, sweat-sodden and foot-sore,And heard the plates clink and the music play,With laughter, with white tables far away,With many lights—conceive how Dymer ranTo table, looked once round him, and began.15That table seemed unending. Here and thereWere broken meats, bread crumbled, flowers defaced—A napkin, with white petals, on a chair,—A glass already tasted, still to taste.It seemed that a great host had fed in hasteAnd gone: yet left a thousand places moreUntouched, wherein no guest had sat before.16There in the lonely splendour Dymer ate,As thieves eat, ever watching, half in fear.He blamed his evil fortune. “I come late.Whose board was this? What company sat here?What women with wise mouths, what comrades dearWho would have made me welcome as the oneFree-born of all my race and cried, ‘Well done!’”17Remember, yet again, he had grown upOn rations and on scientific food,At common boards, with water in his cup,One mess alike for every day and mood:But here, at his right hand, a flagon stood.He raised it, paused before he drank, and laughed.“I’ll drown their Perfect City in this draught.”18He fingered the cold neck. He saw within,Like a strange sky, some liquor that foamed blueAnd murmured. Standing now with pointed chinAnd head thrown back, he tasted. Rapture flewThrough every vein. That moment louder grewThe music and swelled forth a trumpet note.He ceased and put one hand up to his throat.19Then heedlessly he let the flagon sinkIn his right hand. His staring eyes were caughtIn distance, as of one who tries to thinkA thought that is still waiting to be thought.There was a riot in his heart that broughtThe loud blood to the temples. A great voiceSprang to his lips unsummoned, with no choice.20“Ah! but the eyes are open, the dream is broken!To sack the Perfect City?... a fool’s deedFor Dymer! Folly of follies I have spoken!I am the wanderer, new born, newly freed....A thousand times they have warned me of men’s greedFor joy, for the good that all desire, but neverTill now I knew the wild heat of the endeavour.21“Some day I will come back to break the City,—Not now. Perhaps when age is white and bleak—Not now. I am in haste. Oh God, the pityOf all my life till this, groping and weak,The shadow of itself! But now to seekThat true most ancient glory whose white glanceWas lost through the whole world by evil chance!22“I was a dull, cowed thing from the beginning.Dymer the drudge, the blackleg who obeyed.Desire shall teach me now. If this be sinning,Good luck to it! Oh splendour long delayed,Beautiful world of mine, oh world arrayedFor bridal, flower and forest, wave and field,I come to be your lover. Loveliest, yield!23“World, I will prove you. Lest it should be saidThere was a man who loved the earth: his heartWas nothing but that love. With doting treadHe worshipt the loved grass: and every startOf every bird from cover, the least partOf every flower he held in awe. Yet earthGave him no joy between his death and birth.24“I know my good is hidden at your breast.There is a sound of great good in my ear,Like wings. And, oh! this moment is the best;I shall not fail—I taste it—it comes near.As men from a dark dungeon see the clearStars shining and the filled streams far away,I hear your promise booming and obey.25“This forest lies a thousand miles, perhaps,Beyond where I am come. And farther stillThe rivers wander seaward with smooth lapse,And there is cliff and cottage, tower and hill.Somewhere, before the world’s end, I shall fillMy spirit at earth’s pap. For earth must holdOne rich thing sealed as Dymer’s from of old.26“One rich thing—or, it may be, more than this....Might I not reach the borders of a landThat ought to have been mine? And there, the blissOf free speech, there the eyes that understand,The men free grown, not modelled by the handOf masters—men that know, or men that seek,—They will not gape and murmur when I speak.”27Then, as he ceased, amid the farther wallHe saw a curtained and low lintelled door;—Dark curtains, sweepy fold, night-purple pall,He thought he had not noticed it before.Sudden desire for darkness overboreHis will, and drew him towards it. All was blindWithin. He passed. The curtains closed behind.28He entered in a void. Night-scented flowersBreathed there, but this was darker than the nightThat is most black with beating thundershowers,—A disembodied world where depth and heightAnd distance were unmade. No seam of lightShowed through. It was a world not made for seeing,One pure, one undivided sense of being.29Through darkness smooth as amber, warily, slowlyHe moved. The floor was soft beneath his feet.A cool smell that was holy and unholy,Sharp like the very spring and roughly sweetBlew towards him: and he felt his fingers meetBroad leaves and wiry stems that at his willUnclosed before and closed behind him still.30With body intent he felt the foliage quiverOn breast and thighs. With groping arms he madeWide passes in the air. A sacred shiverOf joy from the heart’s centre oddly strayedTo every nerve. Deep sighing, much afraid,Much wondering, he went on: then, stooping, foundA knee-depth of warm pillows on the ground.31And there it was sweet rapture to lie still,Eyes open on the dark. A flowing healthBathed him from head to foot and great goodwillRose springing in his heart and poured its wealthOutwards. Then came a hand as if by stealthOut of the dark and touched his hand: and afterThe beating silence budded into laughter:32—A low grave laugh and rounded like a pearl,Mysterious, filled with home. He opened wideHis arms. The breathing body of a girlSlid into them. From the world’s end, with the strideOf seven league boots came passion to his side.Then, meeting mouths, soft-falling hair, a cry,Heart-shaken flank, sudden cool-folded thigh:33The same night swelled the mushroom in earth’s lapAnd silvered the wet fields: it drew the budFrom hiding and led on the rhythmic sapAnd sent the young wolves thirsting after blood,And, wheeling the big seas, made ebb and floodAlong the shores of earth: and held these twoIn dead sleep till the time of morning dew.

More light. Another step, and still more lightOpening ahead. It swilled with soft excess,His eyes yet quivering from the dregs of night,And it was nowhere more and nowhere less:In it no shadows were. He could not guessIts fountain. Wondering round around he turned:Still on each side the level glory burned.

More light. Another step, and still more light

Opening ahead. It swilled with soft excess,

His eyes yet quivering from the dregs of night,

And it was nowhere more and nowhere less:

In it no shadows were. He could not guess

Its fountain. Wondering round around he turned:

Still on each side the level glory burned.

Far in the dome to where his gaze was lostThe deepening roof shone clear as stones that lieIn-shore beneath pure seas. The aisles, that crossedLike forests of white stone their arms on high,Past pillar after pillar dragged his eyeIn unobscured perspective till the sightWas weary. And there also was the light.

Far in the dome to where his gaze was lost

The deepening roof shone clear as stones that lie

In-shore beneath pure seas. The aisles, that crossed

Like forests of white stone their arms on high,

Past pillar after pillar dragged his eye

In unobscured perspective till the sight

Was weary. And there also was the light.

Look with my eyes. Conceive yourself aboveAnd hanging in the dome: and thence through spaceLook down. See Dymer, dwarfed and naked, move,A white blot on the floor, at such a paceAs boats that hardly seem to have changed placeOnce in an hour when from the cliffs we spyThe same ship always smoking towards the sky.

Look with my eyes. Conceive yourself above

And hanging in the dome: and thence through space

Look down. See Dymer, dwarfed and naked, move,

A white blot on the floor, at such a pace

As boats that hardly seem to have changed place

Once in an hour when from the cliffs we spy

The same ship always smoking towards the sky.

The shouting mood had withered from his heart;The oppression of huge places wrapped him round.A great misgiving sent its fluttering dartDeep into him—some fear of being found,Some hope to find he knew not what. The soundOf music, never ceasing, took the rôleOf silence and like silence numbed his soul.

The shouting mood had withered from his heart;

The oppression of huge places wrapped him round.

A great misgiving sent its fluttering dart

Deep into him—some fear of being found,

Some hope to find he knew not what. The sound

Of music, never ceasing, took the rôle

Of silence and like silence numbed his soul.

Till, as he turned a corner, his deep aweBroke with a sudden start. For straight ahead,Far off, a wild eyed, naked man he sawThat came to meet him: and beyond was spreadYet further depth of light. With quickening treadHe leaped towards the shape. Then stopped and smiledBefore a mirror, wondering like a child.

Till, as he turned a corner, his deep awe

Broke with a sudden start. For straight ahead,

Far off, a wild eyed, naked man he saw

That came to meet him: and beyond was spread

Yet further depth of light. With quickening tread

He leaped towards the shape. Then stopped and smiled

Before a mirror, wondering like a child.

Beside the glass, unguarded, for the claiming,Like a great patch of flowers upon the wallHung every kind of clothes: silk, feathers flaming,Leopard skin, furry mantles like the fallOf deep mid-winter snows. Upon them allHung the faint smell of cedar, and the dyesWere bright as blood and clear as morning skies.

Beside the glass, unguarded, for the claiming,

Like a great patch of flowers upon the wall

Hung every kind of clothes: silk, feathers flaming,

Leopard skin, furry mantles like the fall

Of deep mid-winter snows. Upon them all

Hung the faint smell of cedar, and the dyes

Were bright as blood and clear as morning skies.

He turned from the white spectre in the glassAnd looked at these. Remember, he had wornThro’ winter slush, thro’ summer flowers and grassOne kind of solemn stuff since he was born,With badge of year and rank. He laughed in scornAnd cried, “Here is no law, nor eye to see,Nor leave of entry given. Why should there be?

He turned from the white spectre in the glass

And looked at these. Remember, he had worn

Thro’ winter slush, thro’ summer flowers and grass

One kind of solemn stuff since he was born,

With badge of year and rank. He laughed in scorn

And cried, “Here is no law, nor eye to see,

Nor leave of entry given. Why should there be?

“Have done with that—you threw it all behind.Henceforth I ask no licence where I need.It’s on, on, on, though I go mad and blind,Though knees ache and lungs labour and feet bleed,Or else—it’s home again: to sleep and feed,And work, and hate them always and obeyAnd loathe the punctual rise of each new day.”

“Have done with that—you threw it all behind.

Henceforth I ask no licence where I need.

It’s on, on, on, though I go mad and blind,

Though knees ache and lungs labour and feet bleed,

Or else—it’s home again: to sleep and feed,

And work, and hate them always and obey

And loathe the punctual rise of each new day.”

He made mad work among them as he dressed,With motley choice and litter on the floor,And each thing as he found it seemed the best.He wondered that he had not known beforeHow fair a man he was. “I’ll creep no moreIn secret,” Dymer said. “But I’ll go backAnd drive them all to freedom on this track.”

He made mad work among them as he dressed,

With motley choice and litter on the floor,

And each thing as he found it seemed the best.

He wondered that he had not known before

How fair a man he was. “I’ll creep no more

In secret,” Dymer said. “But I’ll go back

And drive them all to freedom on this track.”

He turned towards the glass. The space looked smallerBehind him now. Himself in royal guiseFilled the whole frame—a nobler shape and taller,Till suddenly he started with surprise,Catching, by chance, his own familiar eyes,Fevered, yet still the same, without their shareOf bravery, undeceived and watching there.

He turned towards the glass. The space looked smaller

Behind him now. Himself in royal guise

Filled the whole frame—a nobler shape and taller,

Till suddenly he started with surprise,

Catching, by chance, his own familiar eyes,

Fevered, yet still the same, without their share

Of bravery, undeceived and watching there.

Yet, as he turned, he cried, “The rest remain....If they rebelled ... if they should find me here,We’d pluck the whole taut fabric from the strain,Hew down the city, let live earth appear!—Old men and barren women whom through fearWe have suffered to be masters in our home,Hide! hide! for we are angry and we come.”

Yet, as he turned, he cried, “The rest remain....

If they rebelled ... if they should find me here,

We’d pluck the whole taut fabric from the strain,

Hew down the city, let live earth appear!

—Old men and barren women whom through fear

We have suffered to be masters in our home,

Hide! hide! for we are angry and we come.”

Thus feeding on vain fancy, covering roundHis hunger, his great loneliness arrayingIn facile dreams until the qualm was drowned,The boy went on. Through endless arches strayingWith casual tread he sauntered, manly playingAt manhood lest more loss of faith betide him,Till lo! he saw a table set beside him.

Thus feeding on vain fancy, covering round

His hunger, his great loneliness arraying

In facile dreams until the qualm was drowned,

The boy went on. Through endless arches straying

With casual tread he sauntered, manly playing

At manhood lest more loss of faith betide him,

Till lo! he saw a table set beside him.

When Dymer saw this sight, he leaped for mirth,He clapped his hands, his eye lit like a lover’s.He had a hunger in him that was worthTen cities. Here was silver, glass and covers.Cold peacock, prauns in aspic, eggs of plovers,Raised pies that stood like castles, gleaming fishesAnd bright fruit with broad leaves around the dishes.

When Dymer saw this sight, he leaped for mirth,

He clapped his hands, his eye lit like a lover’s.

He had a hunger in him that was worth

Ten cities. Here was silver, glass and covers.

Cold peacock, prauns in aspic, eggs of plovers,

Raised pies that stood like castles, gleaming fishes

And bright fruit with broad leaves around the dishes.

If ever you have passed a café doorAnd lingered in the dusk of a June day,Fresh from the road, sweat-sodden and foot-sore,And heard the plates clink and the music play,With laughter, with white tables far away,With many lights—conceive how Dymer ranTo table, looked once round him, and began.

If ever you have passed a café door

And lingered in the dusk of a June day,

Fresh from the road, sweat-sodden and foot-sore,

And heard the plates clink and the music play,

With laughter, with white tables far away,

With many lights—conceive how Dymer ran

To table, looked once round him, and began.

That table seemed unending. Here and thereWere broken meats, bread crumbled, flowers defaced—A napkin, with white petals, on a chair,—A glass already tasted, still to taste.It seemed that a great host had fed in hasteAnd gone: yet left a thousand places moreUntouched, wherein no guest had sat before.

That table seemed unending. Here and there

Were broken meats, bread crumbled, flowers defaced

—A napkin, with white petals, on a chair,

—A glass already tasted, still to taste.

It seemed that a great host had fed in haste

And gone: yet left a thousand places more

Untouched, wherein no guest had sat before.

There in the lonely splendour Dymer ate,As thieves eat, ever watching, half in fear.He blamed his evil fortune. “I come late.Whose board was this? What company sat here?What women with wise mouths, what comrades dearWho would have made me welcome as the oneFree-born of all my race and cried, ‘Well done!’”

There in the lonely splendour Dymer ate,

As thieves eat, ever watching, half in fear.

He blamed his evil fortune. “I come late.

Whose board was this? What company sat here?

What women with wise mouths, what comrades dear

Who would have made me welcome as the one

Free-born of all my race and cried, ‘Well done!’”

Remember, yet again, he had grown upOn rations and on scientific food,At common boards, with water in his cup,One mess alike for every day and mood:But here, at his right hand, a flagon stood.He raised it, paused before he drank, and laughed.“I’ll drown their Perfect City in this draught.”

Remember, yet again, he had grown up

On rations and on scientific food,

At common boards, with water in his cup,

One mess alike for every day and mood:

But here, at his right hand, a flagon stood.

He raised it, paused before he drank, and laughed.

“I’ll drown their Perfect City in this draught.”

He fingered the cold neck. He saw within,Like a strange sky, some liquor that foamed blueAnd murmured. Standing now with pointed chinAnd head thrown back, he tasted. Rapture flewThrough every vein. That moment louder grewThe music and swelled forth a trumpet note.He ceased and put one hand up to his throat.

He fingered the cold neck. He saw within,

Like a strange sky, some liquor that foamed blue

And murmured. Standing now with pointed chin

And head thrown back, he tasted. Rapture flew

Through every vein. That moment louder grew

The music and swelled forth a trumpet note.

He ceased and put one hand up to his throat.

Then heedlessly he let the flagon sinkIn his right hand. His staring eyes were caughtIn distance, as of one who tries to thinkA thought that is still waiting to be thought.There was a riot in his heart that broughtThe loud blood to the temples. A great voiceSprang to his lips unsummoned, with no choice.

Then heedlessly he let the flagon sink

In his right hand. His staring eyes were caught

In distance, as of one who tries to think

A thought that is still waiting to be thought.

There was a riot in his heart that brought

The loud blood to the temples. A great voice

Sprang to his lips unsummoned, with no choice.

“Ah! but the eyes are open, the dream is broken!To sack the Perfect City?... a fool’s deedFor Dymer! Folly of follies I have spoken!I am the wanderer, new born, newly freed....A thousand times they have warned me of men’s greedFor joy, for the good that all desire, but neverTill now I knew the wild heat of the endeavour.

“Ah! but the eyes are open, the dream is broken!

To sack the Perfect City?... a fool’s deed

For Dymer! Folly of follies I have spoken!

I am the wanderer, new born, newly freed....

A thousand times they have warned me of men’s greed

For joy, for the good that all desire, but never

Till now I knew the wild heat of the endeavour.

“Some day I will come back to break the City,—Not now. Perhaps when age is white and bleak—Not now. I am in haste. Oh God, the pityOf all my life till this, groping and weak,The shadow of itself! But now to seekThat true most ancient glory whose white glanceWas lost through the whole world by evil chance!

“Some day I will come back to break the City,

—Not now. Perhaps when age is white and bleak

—Not now. I am in haste. Oh God, the pity

Of all my life till this, groping and weak,

The shadow of itself! But now to seek

That true most ancient glory whose white glance

Was lost through the whole world by evil chance!

“I was a dull, cowed thing from the beginning.Dymer the drudge, the blackleg who obeyed.Desire shall teach me now. If this be sinning,Good luck to it! Oh splendour long delayed,Beautiful world of mine, oh world arrayedFor bridal, flower and forest, wave and field,I come to be your lover. Loveliest, yield!

“I was a dull, cowed thing from the beginning.

Dymer the drudge, the blackleg who obeyed.

Desire shall teach me now. If this be sinning,

Good luck to it! Oh splendour long delayed,

Beautiful world of mine, oh world arrayed

For bridal, flower and forest, wave and field,

I come to be your lover. Loveliest, yield!

“World, I will prove you. Lest it should be saidThere was a man who loved the earth: his heartWas nothing but that love. With doting treadHe worshipt the loved grass: and every startOf every bird from cover, the least partOf every flower he held in awe. Yet earthGave him no joy between his death and birth.

“World, I will prove you. Lest it should be said

There was a man who loved the earth: his heart

Was nothing but that love. With doting tread

He worshipt the loved grass: and every start

Of every bird from cover, the least part

Of every flower he held in awe. Yet earth

Gave him no joy between his death and birth.

“I know my good is hidden at your breast.There is a sound of great good in my ear,Like wings. And, oh! this moment is the best;I shall not fail—I taste it—it comes near.As men from a dark dungeon see the clearStars shining and the filled streams far away,I hear your promise booming and obey.

“I know my good is hidden at your breast.

There is a sound of great good in my ear,

Like wings. And, oh! this moment is the best;

I shall not fail—I taste it—it comes near.

As men from a dark dungeon see the clear

Stars shining and the filled streams far away,

I hear your promise booming and obey.

“This forest lies a thousand miles, perhaps,Beyond where I am come. And farther stillThe rivers wander seaward with smooth lapse,And there is cliff and cottage, tower and hill.Somewhere, before the world’s end, I shall fillMy spirit at earth’s pap. For earth must holdOne rich thing sealed as Dymer’s from of old.

“This forest lies a thousand miles, perhaps,

Beyond where I am come. And farther still

The rivers wander seaward with smooth lapse,

And there is cliff and cottage, tower and hill.

Somewhere, before the world’s end, I shall fill

My spirit at earth’s pap. For earth must hold

One rich thing sealed as Dymer’s from of old.

“One rich thing—or, it may be, more than this....Might I not reach the borders of a landThat ought to have been mine? And there, the blissOf free speech, there the eyes that understand,The men free grown, not modelled by the handOf masters—men that know, or men that seek,—They will not gape and murmur when I speak.”

“One rich thing—or, it may be, more than this....

Might I not reach the borders of a land

That ought to have been mine? And there, the bliss

Of free speech, there the eyes that understand,

The men free grown, not modelled by the hand

Of masters—men that know, or men that seek,

—They will not gape and murmur when I speak.”

Then, as he ceased, amid the farther wallHe saw a curtained and low lintelled door;—Dark curtains, sweepy fold, night-purple pall,He thought he had not noticed it before.Sudden desire for darkness overboreHis will, and drew him towards it. All was blindWithin. He passed. The curtains closed behind.

Then, as he ceased, amid the farther wall

He saw a curtained and low lintelled door;

—Dark curtains, sweepy fold, night-purple pall,

He thought he had not noticed it before.

Sudden desire for darkness overbore

His will, and drew him towards it. All was blind

Within. He passed. The curtains closed behind.

He entered in a void. Night-scented flowersBreathed there, but this was darker than the nightThat is most black with beating thundershowers,—A disembodied world where depth and heightAnd distance were unmade. No seam of lightShowed through. It was a world not made for seeing,One pure, one undivided sense of being.

He entered in a void. Night-scented flowers

Breathed there, but this was darker than the night

That is most black with beating thundershowers,

—A disembodied world where depth and height

And distance were unmade. No seam of light

Showed through. It was a world not made for seeing,

One pure, one undivided sense of being.

Through darkness smooth as amber, warily, slowlyHe moved. The floor was soft beneath his feet.A cool smell that was holy and unholy,Sharp like the very spring and roughly sweetBlew towards him: and he felt his fingers meetBroad leaves and wiry stems that at his willUnclosed before and closed behind him still.

Through darkness smooth as amber, warily, slowly

He moved. The floor was soft beneath his feet.

A cool smell that was holy and unholy,

Sharp like the very spring and roughly sweet

Blew towards him: and he felt his fingers meet

Broad leaves and wiry stems that at his will

Unclosed before and closed behind him still.

With body intent he felt the foliage quiverOn breast and thighs. With groping arms he madeWide passes in the air. A sacred shiverOf joy from the heart’s centre oddly strayedTo every nerve. Deep sighing, much afraid,Much wondering, he went on: then, stooping, foundA knee-depth of warm pillows on the ground.

With body intent he felt the foliage quiver

On breast and thighs. With groping arms he made

Wide passes in the air. A sacred shiver

Of joy from the heart’s centre oddly strayed

To every nerve. Deep sighing, much afraid,

Much wondering, he went on: then, stooping, found

A knee-depth of warm pillows on the ground.

And there it was sweet rapture to lie still,Eyes open on the dark. A flowing healthBathed him from head to foot and great goodwillRose springing in his heart and poured its wealthOutwards. Then came a hand as if by stealthOut of the dark and touched his hand: and afterThe beating silence budded into laughter:

And there it was sweet rapture to lie still,

Eyes open on the dark. A flowing health

Bathed him from head to foot and great goodwill

Rose springing in his heart and poured its wealth

Outwards. Then came a hand as if by stealth

Out of the dark and touched his hand: and after

The beating silence budded into laughter:

—A low grave laugh and rounded like a pearl,Mysterious, filled with home. He opened wideHis arms. The breathing body of a girlSlid into them. From the world’s end, with the strideOf seven league boots came passion to his side.Then, meeting mouths, soft-falling hair, a cry,Heart-shaken flank, sudden cool-folded thigh:

—A low grave laugh and rounded like a pearl,

Mysterious, filled with home. He opened wide

His arms. The breathing body of a girl

Slid into them. From the world’s end, with the stride

Of seven league boots came passion to his side.

Then, meeting mouths, soft-falling hair, a cry,

Heart-shaken flank, sudden cool-folded thigh:

The same night swelled the mushroom in earth’s lapAnd silvered the wet fields: it drew the budFrom hiding and led on the rhythmic sapAnd sent the young wolves thirsting after blood,And, wheeling the big seas, made ebb and floodAlong the shores of earth: and held these twoIn dead sleep till the time of morning dew.

The same night swelled the mushroom in earth’s lap

And silvered the wet fields: it drew the bud

From hiding and led on the rhythmic sap

And sent the young wolves thirsting after blood,

And, wheeling the big seas, made ebb and flood

Along the shores of earth: and held these two

In dead sleep till the time of morning dew.

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