Accolon of Gaul, with Other Poems. Cawein Madison Julius

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      "She comes! her presence, like a moving song

      Breathed soft of loveliest lips and lute-like tongue,

      Sways all the gurgling forests from their rest:

      I fancy where her rustling foot is pressed,

      So faltering, love seems timid, but how strong

      That darling love that flutters in her breast!

      "She comes! and the green vistas are stormed thro' —

      As if wild wings, wet-varnished with dripped dew,

      Had dashed a sudden sunbeam tempest past,

      – With her eyes' inspiration clearly chaste;

      A rhythmic lavishment of bright gray blue,

      Long arrows of her eyes perfection cast.

      "Ah, God! she comes! and, Love, I feel thy breath,

      Like the soft South who idly wandereth

      Thro' musical leaves of laughing laziness,

      Page on before her, how sweet – none can guess!

      To say my soul 'Here's harmony dear as death

      To sigh wild vows, or utterless, to bless.'

      "She comes! ah, God! and all my brain is brave

      To war for words to laud her and to lave

      Her queenly beauty in such vows whereof

      May hush melodious cooings of a dove:

      For her light feet the favored path to pave

      With oaths, like roses, raving mad with love.

      "She comes! in me a passion – as the moon

      Works madness in strong men – my blood doth swoon

      Towards her glory; and I feel her soul

      Cling lip to lip with mine; and now the whole

      Mix with me, aching like a tender tune

      Exhausted; lavished in a god's control.

      "She comes! ah, Christ! ye eager stars that grace

      The fragmentary skies, that dimple space,

      Clink, and I hear her harp-sweet footfalls come:

      Ah, wood-indulging, violet-vague perfume,

      Art of her presence, of her wild-flower face,

      That like some gracious blossom stains the gloom?

      "Oh, living exultation of the blood!

      That now – as sunbursts, the almighty mood

      Of some moved god, scatter the storm that roars,

      And hush – her love like some spent splendor pours

      Into it all immaculate maidenhood,

      And all the heart that hesitates – adores.

      "Vanquished! so vanquished! – ah, triumphant sweet!

      The height of heaven – supine at thy feet!

      Where love feasts crowned, and basks in such a glare

      As hearts of suns burn, in thine eyes and hair,

      Unutterable with raveled fires that cheat

      The ardent clay of me and make me air.

      "And so, rare witch, thy blood, like some lewd wine,

      Shall subtly make me, like thee, half divine;

      And, – sweet rebellion! – clasp thee till thou urge

      To combat close of savage kisses: surge

      A war that rubies all thy proud cheeks' shine, —