what's o'clock
121
But the dream halted at this very spot,
He could not push it to a consummation.
He heaved upon it with his new-found strength,
Fully persuaded that he served her cause
By this he had in mind. The dream gave way,
The queen surrendered on the very terrace
Where the white peacock strutted. She whispered Neron
Where she would be at sunset, gave him the key
Of a small turret-chamber. He found her there,
Her slender shadow stretching to the door
To welcome him; and she, beyond her shadow,
Stood waiting in the crimson sunset light,
A slender silver fox-glove flushed with rose.
There was no sound except the golden boom
Of bees among the honeysuckle flowers
Stirring against the wall. For neither spoke,
Being removed past any reach of speech
Into that silent space of holiness
He could not push it to a consummation.
He heaved upon it with his new-found strength,
Fully persuaded that he served her cause
By this he had in mind. The dream gave way,
The queen surrendered on the very terrace
Where the white peacock strutted. She whispered Neron
Where she would be at sunset, gave him the key
Of a small turret-chamber. He found her there,
Her slender shadow stretching to the door
To welcome him; and she, beyond her shadow,
Stood waiting in the crimson sunset light,
A slender silver fox-glove flushed with rose.
There was no sound except the golden boom
Of bees among the honeysuckle flowers
Stirring against the wall. For neither spoke,
Being removed past any reach of speech
Into that silent space of holiness
