--
He holds her hand an instant, wholly
Distressed--and she unclasps it slowly.
He bends _his_ gaze evasively
Over the printed page that she
Recurs to, with a new-moon shoulder
Glimpsed from the lace-mists that enfold her.
The clock, beneath its crystal cup,
Discreetly clicks--_"Quick! Act! Speak up!"_
A tension circles both her slender
Wrists--and her raised eyes flash in splendor,
Even as he feels his dazzled own.--
Then, blindingly, round either thrown,
They feel a stress of arms that ever
Strain tremblingly--and "_Never! Never!_"
Is whispered brokenly, with half
A sob, like a belated laugh,--
While cloyingly their blurred kiss closes,
Sweet as the dew's lip to the rose's.
[Illustration]
JUDITH
O Her eyes are amber-fine--
Dark and deep as wells of wine,
While her smile is like the noon
Splendor of a day of June,
If she sorrow--lo! her face
It is like a flowery space
In bright meadows, overlaid
With light clouds and lulled with shade.
If she laugh--it is the trill
Of the wayward whippoorwill
Over upland pastures, heard
Echoed by the mocking-bird
In dim thickets dense with bloom
And blurred cloyings of perfume.
If she sigh--- a zephyr swells
Over odorous asphodels
And wall lilies in lush plots
Of moon-drown'd forget-me-nots.
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