And I like, too, the cloak I saw her wear,
And the red scarf that her white neck doth cover,
And well I like the door that she comes through;
I like the riband that doth bind her hair—
But then, in truth, I am that lady's lover,
And every new day there is something new.
III—"A BARREN STRETCH THAT SLANTS TO THE SALT SEA'S GRAY"
A barren stretch that slants to the salt sea's gray,—
Rock-strewn, and scarred by fire, and rough with stubble,—
With here and there a bold, bright touch of color—
Berries and yellow leaves, that make the dolor
More dolorous still. Above, a sky of trouble.
But now a light is lifted in the air;
And tho' the sky is shadowed, fold on fold,
By clouds that have the lightnings in their hold,
That western gleam makes all the dim earth fair—
And the gray sea gold.
IV—HESITATION
(A PORTRAIT)
To-day I saw the picture of a man
Who, issuing from a wood, doth thrust apart
Strong-matted, thorny branches, whose keen smart
He heeds in nowise, if he only can
Win the red rose a maiden, like a fan,
Holds daintily. She, listening to her heart,
Hath looked another way. Ah, would she start,
And weep, and suffer sorrow, if he ran—
