To the hid centre of the maze
At last we came, and there we found—­
O happy day, O day of days! 
—­Twin seed-leaves breaking holy ground. 
We dropped life’s joys, a garnered sheaf,
And spell-bound watched, still hour by hour,
Magic on magic, leaf by leaf,
The unfolding of our love’s white flower.

La DERNIERE robe de SOI.

Oh, silken gown, all pink and pretty,
Bought, quite a bargain, in the City,
Your ill-trained soul full false has played me—­
No Paris gown would have betrayed me.

You knew, my pretty silken treasure,
I must not wed for love or pleasure,
But for a settlement and title;
Yet you encouraged his recital!

He said—­oh, faithless gown, you listened
While on your sheen two tear drops glistened—­
He said . . . let love to music set it,
I’ll never speak it—­nor forget it!

“No, no!” I cried, I tried to save you—­
False gown, you showed the tears I gave you! 
You looked discreet when first I found you. 
How could you let his arm go round you?

You darling dress—­I’ll smooth your creases,
I’ll wear you till you drop to pieces;
But poor men’s wives wear cotton only—­
Dear gown—­I hope you won’t feel lonely!

The least possible.

Dear goddess of the shining shrine
Where all my votive tapers burn,
Where every gold-embroidered thought
And all my flowers of life are brought
—­With many, alas! that are not mine—­
What will you give me in return?

The bow in Bond Street—­in the Park
The smile all worship on your lips,
The courteous word at dinner—­dance—­
But never a blush—­a conscious glance;
At most, at Henley, in the dark,
Your fleet mistaken finger-tips?

Ah, just for once, once only, be
An altar-server—­stoop and set me
Upon the altar richly wrought
Of your most secret flower-sweet thought: 
One nightlight’s flicker burn for me
Before you sleep and quite forget me.

En Tout CAS.

When I am glad I need your eyes
To be the stars of Paradise;
Your lips to be the seal of all
The joy life grants, and dreams recall;
Your hand, to lie my hands between
What time we walk the garden green.

But most in grief I need your face
To lean to mine in the desert place;
Your lips to mock the evil years,
To sweeten me my cup of tears,
Your eyes to shine, in cloud’s despite,
Your hands to hold mine through the night.

Appeal.

Daphnis dearest, wherefore weave me
Webs of lies lest truth should grieve me? 
I could pardon much, believe me: 
Dower me, Daphnis, or bereave me,
Kill me, kill me, love me, leave me—­
Damn me, dear, but don’t deceive me!

St. Valentine’s day.

The South is a dream of flowers
With a jewel for sky and sea,
Rose-crowns for the dancing hours,
Gold fruits upon every tree;
But cold from the North
The wind blows forth
That blows my love to me.