THE CHOSEN

“A woman for whom great gods might strive!”

I said, and kissed her there:

And then I thought of the other five,

And of how charms outwear.

I thought of the first with her eating eyes,

And I thought of the second with hers, green-gray,

And I thought of the third, experienced, wise,

And I thought of the fourth who sang all day.

And I thought of the fifth, whom I'd called a jade,

And I thought of them all, tear-fraught;

And that each had shown her a passable maid,

Yet not of the favour sought.

So I traced these words on the bark of a beech,

Just at the falling of the mast:

“After scanning five; yes, each and each,

I've found the woman desired — at last!”

“— I feel a strange benumbing spell,

As one ill-wished!” said she.

And soon it seemed that something fell

Was starving her love for me.

“I feel some curse. O, FIVE were there?”

And wanly she swerved, and went away.

I followed sick: night numbed the air,

And dark the mournful moorland lay.

I cried: “O darling, turn your head!”

But never her face I viewed;

“O turn, O turn!” again I said,

And miserably pursued.

At length I came to a Christ-cross stone

Which she had passed without discern;

And I knelt upon the leaves there strown,

And prayed aloud that she might turn.

I rose, and looked; and turn she did;

I cried, “My heart revives!”

“Look more,” she said. I looked as bid;

Her face was all the five's.

All the five women, clear come back,

I saw in her — with her made one,

The while she drooped upon the track,

And her frail term seemed well-nigh run.

She'd half forgot me in her change;

“Who are you? Wo n't you say

Who you may be, you man so strange,

Following since yesterday?”

I took the composite form she was,

And carried her to an arbour small,

Not passion-moved, but even because

In one I could atone to all.

And there she lies, and there I tend,

Till my life's threads unwind,

A various womanhood in blend -

Not one, but all combined.