Page:Dreams and Images.djvu/39

Crying aloud in my grief, for there was none to chide me,
  None to mock my weakness, none to behold my tears.

Groping I went, as blind. I sought her house, my beloved's.
  There I stopp'd at the silent door, and listen'd and tried the latch.
Love, I cried, dost thou slumber? This is no hour for slumber,
  This is the hour of love, and love I bring in my hand.

I knew the house with its windows barr'd, and its leafless fig-tree,
  Climbing round by the doorstep, the only one in the street;
I knew where my hope had climbed to its goal and there encircled,
  All those desolate walls once held, my beloved's heart.

There in my grief she consoled me. She loved when I loved not.
  She put her hand in my hand, and set her lips to my lips.
She told me all her pain and show'd me all her trouble.
  I, like a fool, scarce heard, hardly return'd her kiss.

Love, thy eyes were like torches. They changed as I beheld them.
  Love, thy lips were like gems, the seal thou settest on my life.