VII

Out of the purple treasuries of night

Came the dark wind of evening silver-starred —

Stirred on his cheek. The forest keeping ward

Breathed with a tremulous silence, and the bright,

Bare moon crowned his adoring brow with light.

The exquisite dream of beauty held him hard

In a great love, a forest love, unmarred —

Still unprofaned — by human nature's sight.

Guarding the temple gates of peace he stood,

Statue of bronze with pagan heart of stone.

Sudden, a dazzling glory lit the wood —

Moon in his soul that dimmed the moon above.

Life was revealed, a Spring-sweet maid, alone —

Beauty was woman, and the woman — Love.