XXVIII

Your feet as glad

And light as a dove's homing wings, you came —

Came with your sweets to fill my hands,

My sense with your perfume.

We closed with lips

Grown weary and fain with longing from afar,

The while your grave, enamoured eyes

Drank down the dream in mine.

Till the great need

So lovely and so instant grew, it seemed

The embodied Spirit of the Spring

Hung at me, heart on heart.