XIV.

“I give you all; would that I might give more.”

He sees the colour dawn across her cheeks

And die again to white; marks as she speaks

The trembling of her lips, as though she bore

Some sudden pain and hardly mastered it.

Within his arms he feels her shuddering,

Piteously trembling like some wild wood-thing

Caught unawares. Compassion infinite

Mounts up within him. Thus to hold and keep

And comfort her distressed, lull her to sleep

And gently kiss her brow and hair and eyes

Seems love perfected — templed high and white

Against the calm of golden autumn skies,

And shining quenchlessly with vestal light.