"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,-- Slain, struggling blushes,--till white truce emerge.