and keen,
And I held the choked flower-serpent in its pangs
Of mordant anguish, till she ceased to laugh,
Until her pride's flag, smitten, cleaved down to the
staff.

She hid her face, she murmured between her lips
The low word "Don't." I let the flower fall,
But held my hand afloat towards the slips
Of blossom she fingered, and my fingers all
Put forth to her: she did not move, nor I,
For my hand like a snake watched hers, that could
not fly.

Then I laughed in the dark of my heart, I did exult
Like a sudden chuckling of music. I bade her eyes
Meet mine, I opened her helpless eyes to consult
Their fear, their shame, their joy that underlies
Defeat in such a battle. In the dark of her eyes
My heart was fierce to make her laughter rise.

Till her dark deeps shook with convulsive thrills, and
the dark
Of her spirit wavered like water thrilled with light;
And my heart leaped up in longing to plunge its stark
Fervour within the pool of her twilight,
Within her spacious soul, to grope in delight.

And I do not care, though the large hands of revenge
Shall get my throat at last, shall get it soon,
If the joy that they are searching to avenge
Have risen red on my night as a harvest moon,
Which even death can only put out for me;
And death, I know, is better than not-to-be.

A PASSING BELL

MOURNFULLY to and fro, to and fro the trees are
waving;
_What did you say, my dear?_
The rain-bruised leaves are suddenly shaken, as a
child
Asleep still shakes in the clutch of a sob--
_Yes, my love, I hear._

One lonely bell, one only, the storm-tossed afternoon
is braving,
_Why not let it ring?_
The roses lean down when they hear it, the tender,
mild
Flowers of the bleeding-heart fall to the throb--
_It is such a little thing!_

A wet bird walks on the lawn, call to the boy to come
and look,
_Yes, it is over now._
Call to him out of the silence, call him to see
The starling shaking its head as it walks in the
grass--
_Ah, who knows how?_

He cannot see it, I can never show it him, how it
shook--
_Don't disturb him, darling._
--Its head as it walked: I can never call him to me,
Never, he _is_ not, whatever shall come to pass.
_No, look at the wet starling._

IN TROUBLE AND SHAME

I LOOK at the swaling sunset
And wish I could go also
Through the red doors beyond the black-purple bar.

I wish that I could g