In the Valley

Love, take my hand, and look not with sad eyes

Through the valley-shades: for us, the mountains rise;

Beneath the cold, blue-cleaving peaks of snow

Like flame the April-blossomed almonds blow —

Spring-grace and winter-glory intertwined

Within the glittering web that colour weaves.

Yet who are they who troop so close behind

With raiment rustling like frost-withered leaves

That burden winter-winds with ever-restless sighs?

Love, look not back, nor ever hearken more

To murmuring shades; for us, the river-shore

Is lit with dew-hung daffodils that gleam

On either side the tawny, foaming stream

That bears through April with triumphal song

Dissolving winter to the brimming sea.

Yet who are they who, ever-whispering, throng,

With lean, grey lips that shudder piteously,

As if from some bright fruit of bitter-tasting core?

Nay, look not back, for, lo, in tranced light

Love stays awhile his world-encircling flight

To wait our coming from the valley-ways;

See where, a hovering fire amid the blaze,

He pants aflame with irised plumes unfurled

Above the utmost pinnacle of noon.

Yet who are they who wander through the world

Like weary clouds about a wintry moon,

With wan, bewildered brows that bear eternal night?

Love, look not back, nor fill thy heart with woe

Of old, sad loves that perished long ago;

For ever after living lovers tread

Pale, yearning ghosts of all earth's lovers dead.

A little while with life we lead the train

Ere we, too, follow, cold, some breathing love.

I fear their fevered eyes and hands that strain

To snatch our joy that flutters bright above,

To shadow with grey death its ruddy, pulsing glow.

Love, look not back in this life-crowning hour

When all our love breaks into perfect flower

Beneath the kindling heights of frozen time.

Come, Love, that we with happy haste may climb

Beyond the valley, and may chance to see

Some unknown peak that cleaves unfading skies.

Old sorrow saps my strength; I may not flee

The flame of passionate hunger in their eyes;

Beseeching shade on shade — they hold me in their power.

Love, look not back, for, all too brief, our day,

In wilder glories flameth fast away.

Lo, even now, the northern snow-ridge glows —

With purple shadowed — from pale gold to rose

That shivers white beneath stars dawning cold.

Lift up thine eyes ere all the colour fades.

Ah, rainbow-plumed Love in airs of gold,

Too late I turn, a shade among the shades.

To follow, death-enthralled, thy flight through ages grey.