The rosary's nacred spheres like beaded cream
On milk—and didst thou never feel a touch
Of anger when his glances dared not stray
To cheek or mouth he only kissed in dream?
On milk—and didst thou never feel a touch
Of anger when his glances dared not stray
To cheek or mouth he only kissed in dream?
II
And didst thou never rise from midnight sleep
Ere thou wert wedded to Simone—steal
Barefoot across the chamber floor, and feel
Chill petals of the moonlight drifting deep
Between thy breasts' warm curves? Didst never sweep
The curtain folds aside to gaze into
The stillness of the night whose limpid blue
Even as a wall of sapphire did thee keep
From him who still wrought at his lovely rhymes
Of thee and of the happy maids who were
Thy comrades, by the slowly failing lamp
Less glowing than his heart—and were there times
When they who wakened thee at dawn would fear
Flushed, tear-stained cheeks and maiden pillow damp?
Ere thou wert wedded to Simone—steal
Barefoot across the chamber floor, and feel
Chill petals of the moonlight drifting deep
Between thy breasts' warm curves? Didst never sweep
The curtain folds aside to gaze into
The stillness of the night whose limpid blue
Even as a wall of sapphire did thee keep
From him who still wrought at his lovely rhymes
Of thee and of the happy maids who were
Thy comrades, by the slowly failing lamp
Less glowing than his heart—and were there times
When they who wakened thee at dawn would fear
Flushed, tear-stained cheeks and maiden pillow damp?
III
And didst thou never feel a secret fear
Lest one of thy girl friends—as Vanna blithe
So sumptuous of bosom and so lithe
Of limb, with that broad glory of her hair
And winsome face, the quick smile woven there
With pout or frown—such luscious mingling shows
The inner petalled sweetness of a rose—
Might more loveworthy in his eyes appear
Lest one of thy girl friends—as Vanna blithe
So sumptuous of bosom and so lithe
Of limb, with that broad glory of her hair
And winsome face, the quick smile woven there
With pout or frown—such luscious mingling shows
The inner petalled sweetness of a rose—
Might more loveworthy in his eyes appear
[ 65 ]
