from this new grace that's mine now. Sic semper finis deest. II SATIEMUS What if I know thy speeches word by word? And if thou knew'st I knew them wouldst thou speak? What if I know thy speeches word by word, And all the time thou sayest them o'er I said, "Lo, one there was who bent her fair bright head, Sighing as thou dost through the golden speech." Or, as our laughters mingle each with each, As crushed lips take their respite fitfully, What if my thoughts were turned in their mid reach Whispering among them, "The fair dead Must know such moments, thinking on the grass; On how white dogwoods murmured overhead In the bright glad days!" How if the low dear sound within thy throat Hath as faint lute-strings in its dim accord Dim tales that blind me, running one by one With times told over as we tell by rote; What if I know thy laughter word by word Nor find aught novel in thy merriment? III ABELARD  "Pere Esbaillart a Sanct Denis." VILLON.   "Because my soul cried out, and only the long ways Grown weary, gave me answer and Because she answered when the very ways were dumb With all their hoarse, dry speech grown faint and chill. Because her answer was a call to me, Though I have sinned, my God, and though thy angels Bear no more now my thought to whom I love; Now though I crouch afraid in all thy dark Will I once cry to thee: Once more! Once more my strength! Yea though I sin to call him forth once more, Thy messengers for mine, Their wings my power! And let once more my wings fold down above her, Let their cool length be spread Over her feet and head And let thy calm come down To dwell within her, and thy gown of peace Clothe all her body in its samite. O Father of all the blind and all the strong, Though I have left thy courts, though all the throng Of thy gold-shimmering choir know me not, Though I have dared the body and have donned Its frail strong-seeming, and although Its lightening joy is made my swifter song, Though I have known thy stars, yea all, and chosen one. Yea though I make no barter, and repent no jot, Yet for the sunlight of that former time Grant me the boon, O God, Once more, once more, or I or some white thought Shall rise beside her and, enveloping All her strange glory in its wings of light, Bring down thy peace upon her way-worn soul. Oh sheathe that sword of her in some strong case, The doe-skin scabbard of thy clear Rafael! Yea let thy angels walk, as I have seen Them passing, or have seen their wings Spread their pavilions o'er our twin delight. Yea I have seen them when the purple light Hid all her garden from my drowsy eyes. A PROLOGUE SCENE—IN THE AIR The Lords of the Air:  What light hath passed us in the silent ways? The Spirits of Fire:  We are sustainèd, strengthened suddenly. The Spirits of 

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