Who murmurs, hither, hither:  who
Where nought is audible so fills the ear? 
Where nought is visible can make appear
A veil with eyes that waver through,
Like twilight’s pledge of blessed night to come,
Or day most golden?  All unseen and dumb,
She breathes, she moves, inviting flees,
Is lost, and leaves the thrilled desire
To clasp and strike a slackened lyre,
Till over smiles of hyacinth seas,
Flame in a crystal vessel sails
Beneath a dome of jewelled spray,
For land that drops the rosy day
On nights of throbbing nightingales.

Landward did the wonder flit,
Or heart’s desire of her, all earth in it. 
We saw the heavens fling down their rose;
On rapturous waves we saw her glide;
The pearly sea-shell half enclose;
The shoal of sea-nymphs flush the tide;
And we, afire to kiss her feet, no more
Behold than tracks along a startled shore,
With brightened edges of dark leaves that feign
An ambush hoped, as heartless night remain.

More closely, warmly:  hither, hither! she,
The very she called forth by ripened blood
For its next breath of being, murmurs; she,
Allurement; she, fulfilment; she,
The stream within us urged to flood;
Man’s cry, earth’s answer, heaven’s consent; O she,
Maid, woman and divinity;
Our over-earthly, inner-earthly mate
Unmated; she, our hunger and our fruit
Untasted; she our written fate
Unread; Life’s flowering, Life’s root: 
Unread, divined; unseen, beheld;
The evanescent, ever-present she,
Great Nature’s stern necessity
In radiance clothed, to softness quelled;
With a sword’s edge of sweetness keen to take
Our breath for bliss, our hearts for fulness break.

The murmur hushes down, the veil is rent. 
Man’s cry, earth’s answer, heaven’s consent,
Her form is given to pardoned sight,
And lets our mortal eyes receive
The sovereign loveliness of celestial white;
Adored by them who solitarily pace,
In dusk of the underworld’s perpetual eve,
The paths among the meadow asphodel,
Remembering.  Never there her face
Is planetary; reddens to shore sea-shell
Around such whiteness the enamoured air
Of noon that clothes her, never there. 
Daughter of light, the joyful light,
She stands unveiled to nuptial sight,
Sweet in her disregard of aid
Divine to conquer or persuade. 
A fountain jets from moss; a flower
Bends gently where her sunset tresses shower. 
By guerdon of her brilliance may be seen
With eyelids unabashed the passion’s Queen.

Shorn of attendant Graces she can use
Her natural snares to make her will supreme. 
A simple nymph it is, inclined to muse
Before the leader foot shall dip in stream: 
One arm at curve along a rounded thigh;
Her firm new breasts each pointing its own way
A knee half bent to shade its fellow shy,
Where innocence, not nature, signals nay. 
The bud of fresh virginity awaits
The wooer, and all roseate will she burst: 
She touches on the hour of happy mates;
Still is she unaware she wakens thirst.