But rain slides round us now, a fine grey cloudLike the wraith castle in a fairy tale,Sheltering those hearts that could not quite prevailWith the bold gules and azure, painted proudOn earth's sure banners. Come, then, let me sayMy hidden truth. I shall not speak aloud,This will be but a fountain, hidden awayIn plaited leaves; a violet dusk its shroud.
Each friendliness of yours, each chance-said wordSings in my heart, as in some loneliest treeOver and over, the shining threnodyOf few clear notes haunts the enchanted bird."Thus his lips spoke ... and thus his look foretold,"Echo the little under-tones, scarce heard.Ah, white the lissome boughs of dreaming, stirredTowards blossom, to a fruit of fairy gold.
It is slight enough; slight as the touch of rain,Slight as the gold kiss troubling Danae's sleep.I think no rain of Heaven could pierce as deep,Stirring the coiled blind roots of hope and pain.Yet at your look, the thwarted petals rise,Chalices where the moonrise finds no stain.Yet word of yours can sway the rose again,In the forgotten garden of my eyes.
