And so I love it.--Either unconfined;
Or plaited in close braidings manifold;
Or smoothly drawn; or indolently twined
In careless knots whose coilings come unrolled
At any lightest kiss; or by the wind
Whipped out in flossy ravelings of gold.
LAST NIGHT--AND THIS
Last night--how deep the darkness was!
And well I knew its depths, because
I waded it from shore to shore,
Thinking to reach the light no more.
She would not even touch my hand.--
The winds rose and the cedars fanned
The moon out, and the stars fled back
In heaven and hid--and all was black!
But ah! To-night a summons came,
Signed with a teardrop for a name,--
For as I wondering kissed it, lo,
A line beneath it told me so.
And _now_ the moon hangs over me
A disk of dazzling brilliancy,
And every star-tip stabs my sight
With splintered glitterings of light!
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
A DISCOURAGING MODEL
Just the airiest, fairiest slip of a thing,
With a Gainsborough hat, like a butterfly's wing,
Tilted up at one side with the jauntiest air,
And a knot of red roses sown in under there
Where the shadows are lost in her hair.
[Illustration]
Then a cameo face, carven in on a ground
Of that shadowy hair where the roses are wound;
And the gleam of a smile O as fair and as faint
And as sweet as the masters of old used to paint
Round the lips of their favorite saint!
And that lace at her throat--and the fluttering hands
Snowing there, with a grace that no art understands
The flakes of their touches--first fluttering at
The bow--then the roses--the hair--and then that
Little tilt of the Gainsborough hat.
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