Fatima

O LOVE, Love, Love! O withering might!

O sun, that from thy noonday height

Shudderest when I strain my sight,

Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,

     Lo, falling from my constant mind,

     Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,

     I whirl like leaves in roaring wind.

Last night I wasted hateful hours

Below the city's eastern towers:

I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:

I roll'd among the tender flowers:

     I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth;

     I look'd athwart the burning drouth

     Of that long desert to the south.

Last night, when some one spoke his name,

From my swift blood that went and came

A thousand little shafts of flame

Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.

     O Love, O fire! once he drew

     With one long kiss my whole soul thro'

     My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew.

Before he mounts the hill, I know

He cometh quickly: from below

Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow

Before him, striking on my brow.

     In my dry brain my spirit soon,

     Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,

     Faints like a daled morning moon.

The wind sounds like a silver wire,

And from beyond the noon a fire

Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher

The skies stoop down in their desire;

     And, isled in sudden seas of light,

     My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,

     Bursts into blossom in his sight.

My whole soul waiting silently,

All naked in a sultry sky,

Droops blinded with his shining eye:

I will possess him or will die.

     I will grow round him in his place,

     Grow, live, die looking on his face,

     Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.