Numpholeptos

Still you stand, still you listen, still you smile!     Still melts your moonbeam through me, white awhile,     Softening, sweetening, till sweet. and soft     Increase so round this heart of mine, that oft     I could believe your moonbeam-smile has past     The pallid limit, lies, transformed at last     To sunlight and salvation, warms the soul     It sweets, softens! Would you pass that goal,     Gain loves birth at the limits happier verge.     And, where an iridescence lurks, but urge     The hesitating pallor on to prime     Of dawn! true blood-streaked, sun-warmth, action-time,     By heart-pulse ripened to a ruddy glow     Of gold above my clay, I scarce should know     From golds self, thus suffused! For gold means love.     What means the sad slow silver smile above     My clay but pity, pardon? at the best,     But acquiescence that I take my rest,     Contented to be clay, while in your heaven     The sun reserves love for the Spirit-Seven     Companioning Gods throne they lamp before,     Leaves earth a mute waste only wandered oer     By that pale soft sweet disempassioned moon     Which smiles me slow forgiveness! Such, the boon     I beg? Nay, dear submit to this, just this     Supreme endeavor! As my lips now kiss     Your feet, my arms convulse your shrouding robe,     My eyes, acquainted with the dust, dare probe     Your eyes above for, what, if born, would blind     Mine with redundant bliss, as flash may find     The inert nerve, sting awake the palsied limb,     Bid with lifes ecstasy sense overbrim     And suck back death in the resurging joy,     Love, the love whole and sole without alloy!     Vainly! The promise withers! I employ     Lips, arms, eyes, pray the prayer which finds the word,     Make the appeal which must be felt, not heard,     And none the more is changed your calm regard:     Rather, its sweet and soft grow harsh and hard,     Forbearance, then repulsion, then disdain.     Avert the rest! I rise, see! make, again     Once more, the old departure for some track     Untried, yet through a world which brings me back     Ever thus fruitlessly to find your feet,     To fix your eyes, to pray the soft and sweet     Which smile there, take from his new pilgrimage     Your outcast, once your inmate, and assuage     With love, not placid pardon now, his thirst     For a mere drop from out the ocean erst     He drank at! Well, the quest shall be renewed.     Fear nothing! Though I linger, unembued     With any drop, my lips thus close. I go!     So did I leave you, I have found you so,     And doubtlessly, if fated to return     So shall my pleading persevere and earn     Pardon, not love, in that same smile, I learn,     And lose the meaning of, to learn once more,     Vainly!     What fairy track do I explore?     What magic hall return to, like the gem     Centuply-angled oer a diadem?     You dwell there, hearted; from your mid-most home     Rays forth, through that fantastic world I roam     Ever, from centre to circumference,     Shaft upon colored shaft: this crimsons thence,     That purples out its precinct through that waste.     Surely I had your sanction when I faced,     Fared forth upon that untried yellow ray     Whence I retrack my steps? They end to-day     Where they began, before your feet, beneath     Your eyes, your smile: the blade is shut in sheath,     Fire quenched in flint; irradiation, late     Triumphant through the distance, finds it: fate,     Merged in your blank pure soul, alike the source     And tomb of that prismatic glow: divorce     Absolute, all-conclusive! Forth I fared,     Treading the lambent flamelet: little cared     If now its flickering took the topaz tint,     If now my dull-caked path gave sulphury hint     Of subterranean rage, no stay nor stint     To yellow, since you sanctioned that I bathe,     Burnish me, soul and body, swim and swathe     In yellow license. Here I seek suffused     With crocus, saffron, orange, as I used     With scarlet, purple, every dye o the bow     Born of the storm-cloud. As before, you show     Scarce recognition, no approval, some     Mistrust, more wonder at a man become     Monstrous in garb, nay, flesh disguised as well,     Through his adventure. Whatsoeer befell,     I followed, wheresoeer it wound, that vein     You authorized should leave your whiteness, stain     Earths sombre stretch beyond your mid-most place     Of vantage, trode that tinct whereof the trace     On garb and flesh repel you! Yes, I plead     Your own permission, your command, indeed,     That who would worthily retain the love     Must share the knowledge shrined those eyes above,     Go boldly on adventure, break through bounds     O the quintessential whiteness that surrounds     Your feet, obtain experience of each tinge     That bickers forth to broaden out, impinge     Plainer his foot its pathway all distinct     From every other. Ah, the wonder, linked     With fear, as exploration manifests     What agency it was first tipped the crests     Of unnamed wildflower, soon protruding grew     Portentous mid the sands, as when his hue     Betrays him and the burrowing snake gleams through;     Till, last . . . but why parade more shame and pain?     Are not the proofs upon me? Here again     I pass into your presence, I receive     Your smile of pity, pardon, and I leave . . .     No, not this last of times I leave you, mute,     Submitted to my penance, so my foot     May yet again adventure, tread, from source     To issue, one more ray of rays which course     Each other, at your bidding, from the sphere     Silver and sweet, their birthplace, down that drear     Dark of the world, you promise shall return     Your pilgrim jewelled as with drops o the urn     The rainbow paints from, and no smatch at all     Of ghastliness at edge of some cloud-pall     Heaven cowers before, as earth awaits the fall     O the bolt and flash of doom. Who trusts your word     Tries the adventure: and returns, absurd     As frightful, in that sulphur-steeped disguise     Mocking the priestly cloth-of-gold, sole prize     The arch-heretic was wont to bear away     Until he reached the burning. No, I say:     No fresh adventure! No more seeking love     At end of toil, and finding, calm above     My passion, the old statuesque regard,     The sad petrific smile!     O you, less hard     And hateful than mistaken and obtuse     Unreason of a she-intelligence!     You very woman with the pert pretence     To match the male achievement! Like enough!     Ay, you were easy victors, did the rough     Straightway efface itself to smooth, the gruff     Grind down and grow a whisper, did mans truth     Subdue, for sake of chivalry and ruth,     Its rapier-edge to suit the bulrush-spear     Womanly falsehood fights with! O that ear     All fact pricks rudely, that thrice-superfine     Feminity of sense, with right divine     To waive all process, take result stain-free     From out the very muck wherein . . .     Ah me!     The true slaves querulous outbreak! All the rest     Be resignation! Forth at your behest     I fare. Who knows but this, the crimson-quest,     May deepen to a sunrise, not decay     To that cold sad sweet smile? which I obey.