Poems (Bibesco)/XVIII First fear

by Elizabeth Bibesco

XVIII FIRST FEAR

There were those days when you would worship me
With the hushed silences of ecstasy,
Unsmiling lips and eyes too full to see.

With singing thoughts that climbed from trill to trill,
With waking dreams that sleeping could fulfil,
With that wild wisdom sense can never still,

When sometimes you would dream to hold me tight,
As a grey dawn enfolds a secret light
In silent homage to a dying night.

I was the fullness that to-morrows bring,
I was the glimmer of each unseen thing,
I was the taunting temptings of the spring,

I was fragility and I was fire,
I was your reverence and your desire,
I was your laurel and I was your lyre.

Was I myself, or was I some small light
That lit the waiting furnace of your sight—
And thus became a symbol of delight?

What was I but the beauty of first love
Scattering flowers below and stars above?
For in that image you had made me, dear.
You did not know me, yet you taught me fear.
Irony faltered and I nearly flew;
Perhaps I showed you love, but I loved you.