For so long and so long had I forgot,
          Serenely busied
With thousand things; at whiles desire grew hot
          And my soul dizzied
With hapless and insatiable salt thirst. 
          Nor was I humbled
Saving with shame that, running with the worst
          My feet yet stumbled. 
Pride and delight of life enchained my heart,
          My heart enchanted,
And oh, soft subtle fingers had their part,
          And eyes love-haunted. 
But while my busy mind was thus intent,
          Or thus surrendered,
What was it, oh what strange thing was it sent
          Through all that hindered
A thrill that woke the buried soul in me?—­
          It seemed there fluttered
A thought—­or was it a sudden fear?—­of Thee,
          Remote, unuttered.

FAIR EVE

Fair Eve, as fair and still
As fairest thought, climbs the high sheltering hill;
As still and fair
As the white cloud asleep in the deep air.

As cool, as fair and cool,
As starlight swimming in a lonely pool;
Subtle and mild
As through her eyes the soul looks of a child.

A linnet sings and sings,
A shrill swift cleaves the air with blackest wings;
White twinkletails
Run frankly in their meadow as day fails.

On such a night, a night
That seems but the full sleep of tired light,
I look and wait
For what I know not, looking long and late.

Is it for a dream I look,
A vision from the Tree of Heaven shook,
As sweetness shaken
From the fresh limes on lonely ways forsaken?

A dream of one, maybe,
Who comes like sudden wind from oversea? 
Or most loved swallow
Whom all fair days and golden musics follow?—­

More sudden yet, more strange
Than magic airs on magic hills that range:—­
Of one who’ll steep
The soul in soft forgetfulness ere it sleep.

Yes, down the hillside road,
Where Eve’s unhasty feet so gently trod,
Follow His feet
Whose leaf-like echoes make even spring more sweet.

THE SNARE

Loose me and let me go! 
  I am not yours. 
I do not know
  Your dark name ev’n, O Powers
That out of the deep rise
  And wave your arms
  To weave strange charms.

Though the snare of eyes
  You weave for me,
As a pool lies
  In wait for the moon when she
Out of the deep will rise;
  And though you set
  Like mist your net;

And though my feet you catch,
  O dark, strange Powers,
You may not snatch
  My soul, or call it yours. 
Out of your snare I rise
  And pass your charms,
  Nor feel your harms.

You loose me and I go: 
  O see the arms
Spread for me! lo,
  His lips break your charms. 
From the deep did He rise
  And round me set
  His Love for net.