Fontainebleau. ON THE HEATH. HER face’s wilful flash and glow Turned all its light upon my face One bright delirious moment’s space, And then she passed: I followed slow Across the heath, and up and round, And watched the splendid death of day Upon the summits far away, And in her fateful beauty found The fierce wild beauty of the light That startles twilight on the hills, And lightens all the mountain rills, And flames before the feet of night. IN THE ORATORY. THE incense mounted like a cloud, A golden cloud of languid scent; Robed priests before the altar bowed, Expecting the divine event. Then silence, like a prisoner bound, Rose, by a mighty hand set free, And dazzlingly, in shafts of sound, Thundered Beethoven’s Mass in C. She knelt in prayer; large lids serene Lay heavy on the sombre eyes, As though to veil some vision seen Upon the mounts of Paradise. Her dark face, calm as carven stone. The face that twilight shows the day, Brooded, mysteriously alone, And infinitely far away. Inexplicable eyes that drew Mine eyes adoring, why from me Demand, new Sphinx, the fatal clue That seals my doom or conquers thee? PATTIE. COOL comely country Pattie, grown A daisy where the daisies grow, No wind of heaven has ever blown Across a field-flower’s daintier snow. Gold-white among the meadow-grass The humble little daisies thrive; I cannot see them as I pass, But I am glad to be alive. And so I turn where Pattie stands, A flower among the flowers at play; I’ll lay my heart into her hands, And she will smile the clouds away. IN AN OMNIBUS.
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