A BAD BEGINNING

THE yellow sun steps over the mountain-top

And falters a few short steps across the lake —

Are you awake?

The sun is in my eyes, I must get up.

I want to go, there's a gold road blazes before

My breast — which is so sore.

What if I love you!— This misery

Of your dissatisfaction and misprision

Stupefies me.

Ah yes, your open arms! Ah yes, ah yes,

You would take me to your breast!— But no,

You should come to mine,

It were better so.

Here I am — get up and come to me!

Not as a visitor either, nor a sweet

And winsome child of innocence; nor

As an insolent mistress telling my pulse's beat.

Come to me like a woman coming home

To the man who is her husband, all the rest

Subordinate to this, that he and she

Are joined together for ever, as is best.