Love Letters of a Violinist and Other Poems Part 12

IV.

There is a glamour all about the bay, As if the nymphs of Greece had tarried here.

The sands are golden, and the rocks appear Crested with silver; and the breezes play s.n.a.t.c.hes of song they humm'd when far away, And then are hush'd, as if from sudden fear.

V.

They think of thee. They hunt; they meditate.

They will not quit the sh.o.r.e till they have seen The very spot where thou did'st stand serene In all thy beauty; and of me they prate, Knowing I love thee. And, like one elate, The grand old sea remembers what hath been.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

VI.

How many hours, how many days we met Here on the beach, in that delirious time When all the waves appear'd to break in rhyme.

Life was a joy, and love was like a debt Paid and repaid in kisses--good to get, And good to lose--unh.o.a.rded, yet sublime.

VII.

We wander'd here. We saw the tide advance, We saw it ebb. We saw the widow'd sh.o.r.e Waiting for Ocean with its organ roar, Knowing that, day by day, through happy chance, She would be wooed anew, amid the dance Of bridal waves high-bounding as before.

VIII.

And I remember how, at flush of morn, Thou didst depart alone, to find a nook Where none could see thee; where a lover's look Were profanation worse than any scorn; And how I went my way, among the corn, To wait for thee beside the Shepherd's brook.

IX.

And lo! from out a cave thou didst emerge, Sweet as thyself, the flower of Womankind.

I know 'twas thus; for, in my secret mind, I see thee now. I see thee in the surge Of those wild waves, well knowing that they urge Some idle wish, untalk'd-of to the wind.

X.

I think the beach was thankful to have known Thy warm, white body, and the blessedness Of thy first shiver; and I well can guess How, when thy limbs were toss'd and overthrown, The sea was pleased, and every smallest stone, And every wave, was proud of thy caress.

XI.

A maiden diving, with dishevell'd hair, Sheer from a rock; a syren of the deep Call'd into action, ere a wave could leap Breast-high to daunt her; Daphne, by a prayer, Lured from a forest for the sea to bear-- This were a dream to fill a poet's sleep.

XII.

This were a thing for Phoebus to have eyed; And he did eye it. Yea, the Deathless One Did eye thy beauty. It was madly done.

He saw thee in the rising of the tide.

He saw thee well. The truth is not denied; The sh.o.r.e was proud to show thee to the sun.

XIII.

Never since Venus, at a G.o.d's decree, Uprose from ocean, has there lived on earth A face like thine, a form of so much worth; And nowhere has the moon-obeying sea Known such perfection, down from head to knee, And knee to foot, since that Olympian birth.

XIV.

And, sooth, the moon was anxious to have placed Her head beside thee, on the waters bright.

But she was foil'd; for thou so late at night Wouldst not go forth: no! not to be embraced By Nature's Queen, though, round about the waist, She would have ring'd thee with her softest light.

XV.

Ah me! had I a lute of sovereign power I would enlarge on this, and plainly show That there is nothing like thee here below,-- Nothing so comely, nothing in its dower Of youth and grace, so like a human flower, And white withal, and guiltless as the snow.

XVI.

For thou art fair as lilies, with the flush That roses have while waiting for a kiss; And when thou smilest nothing comes amiss.

The earth is glad to see thy dimpled blush.

Had I the lute of Orpheus I would hush All meaner sounds to tell the stars of this.

XVII.

I would, I swear, by Pallas' own consent, Inform all creatures whom the stars behold That thou art mine, and that a pen of gold, With ink of fire, though by an angel lent, Were all too poor to tell my true content, And how I love thee seven times seventy fold.

XVIII.

And sure am I that, in the ancient days, Achilles heard no voice so pa.s.sing sweet, And none so trancing, none that could compete With thine for fervour; none, in watery ways Where Neptune dwelt, so worthy of the praise Of Thetis' son, the sure and swift of feet.

XIX.

He never met upon the plains of Troy G.o.ddess or maiden so divinely fraught.

Not Helen's self, for whom the Trojans fought, Was like to thee. Her love had much alloy, But thine has none. Her beauty was a toy, But thine's a gem, unsullied and unbought.

XX.

And ne'er was seen by poet, in a sweven, An eye like thine, a face so fair to see As that which makes the sunlight sweet to me.

Nor need I wait for death, or for the levin In yonder cloud, to find the path to Heaven.

It fronts me here. 'Tis manifest in thee!