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Even such love is; and is not thy name Love?

Yea, by thy hand the Love-god rends apart

All gathering clouds of Night's ambiguous art;

Flings them far down, and sets thine eyes above;

And simply, as some gage of flower or glove,

Stakes with a smile the world against thy heart.

XXXI. HER GIFTS

HIGH grace, the dower of queens; and therewithal

Some wood-born wonder's sweet simplicity;

A glance like water brimming with the sky

Or hyacinth-light where forest-shadows fall:

Such thrilling pallor of cheek as doth enthral

The heart; a mouth whose passionate forms imply

All music and all silence held thereby ; Deep golden locks, her sovereign coronal; A round reared neck, meet column of Love's shrine

To cling to when the heart takes sanctuary;

Hands which for ever at Love's bidding be,

And soft-stirred feet still answering to

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Than thou, 'mid other ladies throned in grace?—

Or Pallas, when thou bend'st with soulstilled face

O'er poet's page gold-shadowed in thy hair?

Dost thou than Venus seem less heavenly fair

When o'er the sea of love's tumultuous trance

Hovers thy smile, and mingles with thy glance

That sweet voice like the last wave murmuring there?

Before such triune loveliness divine Awestruck I ask, which goddess here most claims

The prize that, howsoe'er adjudged, is thine?

Then Love breathes low the sweetest of thy names;

And Venus Victrix to my heart doth bring

Herself, the Helen of her guerdoning.

XXXIV. THE DARK GLASS

NOT I myself know all my love for thee: How should I reach so far, who cannot weigh

To-morrow's dower by gage of yesterday? Shall birth and death, and all dark names

that be

As doors and windows bared to some loud sea,

Lash deaf mine ears and blind my face with spray:

And shall my sense pierce love,-the last relay

And ultimate outpost of eternity?
Lo! what am I to Love, the lord of all:
One murmuring shell he gathers from
the sand,

One little heart-flame sheltered in his hand.

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XLVIII. DEATH-IN-LOVE

THERE came an image in Life's retinue That had Love's wings and bore his gonfalon :

Fair was the web, and nobly wrought thereon,

O soul-sequestered face, thy form and hue!

Bewildering sounds, such as Spring wakens to,

Shook in its folds; and through my heart its power

Sped trackless as the immemorable hour When birth's dark portal groaned and all was new.

But a veiled woman followed, and she caught

The banner round its staff, to furl and cling,

Then plucked a feather from the bearer's wing,

And held it to his lips that stirred it not, And said to me, "Behold, there is no breath:

I and this Love are one, and I am Death."

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LV. STILLBORN LOVE

THE hour which might have been yet might not be,

Which man's and woman's heart conceived and bore

Yet whereof life was barren, on what shore

Bides it the breaking of Time's weary sea?

Bondchild of all consummate joys set free,

It somewhere sighs and serves, and mute before

The house of Love, hears through the echoing door

His hours elect in choral consonancy. But lo! what wedded souls now hand in hand

Together tread at last the immortal strand

With eyes where burning memory lights love home?

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Ah! who shall say she deems not loveliest

The hour of sisterly sweet hand-in-hand?

LVIII. TRUE WOMAN-III. HER HEAVEN

IF to grow old in Heaven is to grow young,

(As the Seer saw and said,) then blest were he

With youth for evermore, whose heaven should be

True Woman, she whom these weak notes have sung,

Here and hereafter,-choir-strains of her tongue,

Sky-spaces of her eyes,-sweet signs that flee

About her soul's immediate sanctuary,— Were Paradise all uttermost worlds

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The Holy of holies; who because they scoff'd

Are now amazed with shame, nor dare to cope

With the whole truth aloud, lest heaven should ope;

Yet, at their meetings, laugh not as they laugh'd

In speech; nor speak, at length; but sitting oft

Together, within hopeless sight of hope For hours are silent :—So it happenetĥ When Work and Will awake too late, to gaze

After their life sailed by, and hold their breath.

Ah! who shall dare to search through what sad maze

Thenceforth their incommunicable ways Follow the desultory feet of Death?

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