LAURENS VILLA
"There is no happiness!" I cried.
"Hush, hush!" she laughed, lying by my side.
"I think I am too blest! The gods
Will smite me with their jealous rods
Upon thy breast!" . . . "Sweetheart," (she said,)
"Art not content?" I hid my head
In silence: whilst she laughed; all slow
Saying,—"Oh, Love, since thou must know!
When Laurens died, thy sword that let
His life out, with his red blood wet
Let in the light to me!" . . . I turned
And kissed her, till the fires burned
In flame to Eros. And she slept
Until the hushed white morning crept
And with unprisoned sunlight came
To wake with matin sword of flame.
"Hush, hush!" she laughed, lying by my side.
"I think I am too blest! The gods
Will smite me with their jealous rods
Upon thy breast!" . . . "Sweetheart," (she said,)
"Art not content?" I hid my head
In silence: whilst she laughed; all slow
Saying,—"Oh, Love, since thou must know!
When Laurens died, thy sword that let
His life out, with his red blood wet
Let in the light to me!" . . . I turned
And kissed her, till the fires burned
In flame to Eros. And she slept
Until the hushed white morning crept
And with unprisoned sunlight came
To wake with matin sword of flame.
Half sleeping, I essayed to find
Her lips: and with warm hands to bind
Her lips: and with warm hands to bind
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