For I am called thy lover and thy wife.

"Listen, these words the Dread One bade me say
That was with me e'en now, _Pygmalion,_
_My new-made soul I give to thee to-day,_
_Come, feel the sweet breath that thy prayer has won,_
_And lay thine hand this heaving breast upon!_
_Come love, and walk with me between the trees,_
_And feel the freshness of the evening breeze._

_"Sweep mine hair round thy neck; behold my feet,_
_The oft-kissed feet thou thoughtst should never move,_
_Press down the daisies! draw me to thee, sweet,_
_And feel the warm heart of thy living love_
_Beat against thine, and bless the Seed of Jove_
_Whose loving tender heart hath wrought all this,_
_And wrapped us both in such a cloud of bliss._

"Ah, thou art wise to know what this may mean!
Sweet seem the words to me, and needs must I
Speak all the lesson of the lovely Queen:
But this I know, I would we were more nigh,
I have not heard thy voice but in the cry
Thou utteredst then, when thou believedst gone
The marvel of thine hands, the maid of stone."

She reached her hand to him, and with kind eyes
Gazed into his; but he the fingers caught
And drew her to him, and midst ecstasies
Passing all words, yea, well-nigh passing thought,
Felt that sweet breath that he so long had sought,
Felt the warm life within her heaving breast
As in his arms his living love he pressed.

But as his cheek touched hers he heard her say,
"Wilt thou not speak, O love? why dost thou weep?
Art thou then sorry for this long-wished day,
Or dost thou think perchance thou wilt not keep
This that thou holdest, but in dreamy sleep?
Nay, let us do the bidding of the Queen,
And hand in hand walk through thy garden green;

"Then shalt thou tell me, still beholding me,
Full many things whereof I wish to know,
And as we walk from whispering tree to tree
Still more familiar to thee shall I grow,
And such things shalt thou say unto me now
As when thou deemedst thou wast quite alone,
A madman, kneeling to a thing of stone."

But at that word a smile lit up his eyes
And therewithal he spake some loving word,
And she at first looked up in grave surprise
When his deep voice and musical she heard,
And clung to him as grown somewhat afeard;
Then cried aloud and said, "O mighty one!
What joy with thee to look upon the sun."

Then into that fair garden did they pas