As a lover's that kindle with kissing, and earth, with her raiment and tresses yet wasted and torn,

Takes breath as she smiles in the grasp of thy passion to feel through her spirit the sense of thee flow.

III

Fain, fain would we see but again for an hour what the wind and the sun have dispelled and consumed,

Those full deep swan-soft feathers of snow with whose luminous burden the branches implumed

Hung heavily, curved as a half-bent bow, and fledged not as birds are, but petalled as flowers,

Each tree-top and branchlet a pinnacle jewelled and carved, or a fountain that shines as it showers,

But fixed as a fountain is fixed not, and wrought not to last till by time or by tempest entombed,

[Pg 171]

As a pinnacle carven and gilded of men: for the date of its doom is no more than an hour's,

One hour of the sun's when the warm wind wakes him to wither the snow-flowers that froze as they bloomed.

IV

As the sunshine quenches the snowshine; as April subdues thee, and yields up his kingdom to May;

So time overcomes the regret that is born of delight as it passes in passion away,

And leaves but a dream for desire to rejoice in or mourn for with tears or thanksgivings; but thou,

Bright god that art gone from us, maddest and gladdest of months, to what goal hast thou gone from us now?

For somewhere surely the storm of thy laughter that lightens, the beat of thy wings that play,

Must flame as a fire through the world, and the heavens that we know not rejoice in thee: surely thy brow

Hath lost not its radiance of empire, thy spirit the joy that impelled it on quest as for prey.

V

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