might have nestled like plovers In the fields of eternity. There, sure in sinless being, All-seen, and then all-seeing, In us life unto death agreeing, We might have lain. But we storm the angel-guarded Gates of the long-discarded, Garden, which God has hoarded Against our pain. The Lord of Hosts, and the Devil Are left on Eternity's level Field, and as victors we travel To Eden home. Back beyond good and evil Return we. Eve dishevel Your hair for the bliss-drenched revel On our primal loam.
SPRING MORNING
AH, through the open door Is there an almond tree Aflame with blossom! —Let us fight no more. Among the pink and blue Of the sky and the almond flowers A sparrow flutters. —We have come through, It is really spring!—See, When he thinks himself alone How he bullies the flowers. —Ah, you and me How happy we'll be!—See him He clouts the tufts of flowers In his impudence. —But, did you dream It would be so bitter? Never mind It is finished, the spring is here. And we're going to be summer-happy And summer-kind. We have died, we have slain and been slain, We are not our old selves any more. I feel new and eager To start again. It is gorgeous to live and forget. And to feel quite new. See the bird in the flowers?—he's making A rare to-do! He thinks the whole blue sky Is much less than the bit of blue egg He's got in his nest—we'll be happy You and I, I and you. With nothing to fight any more— In each other, at least. See, how gorgeous the world is Outside the door! SAN GAUDENZIO
WEDLOCK
I COME, my little one, closer up against me, Creep right up, with your round head pushed in my breast. How I love all of you! Do you feel me wrap you Up with myself and my warmth, like a flame round the wick? And how I am not at all, except a flame that mounts off you. Where I touch you, I flame into being;—but is it me, or you? That round head pushed in my chest, like a nut in its socket, And I the swift bracts that sheathe it: those breasts, those thighs and knees, Those shoulders so warm and smooth:
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