I Come, the dusk is lit with flowers! Quietly take this guiding hand: Little breath to waste is ours On the road to lovers' land. Time is in his dungeon-keep! Ah, not thither, lest he hear, Starting from his old grey sleep, Rosy feet upon the stair. II Ah, not thither, lest he heed Ere we reach the rusty door! Nay, the stairways only lead Back to his dark world once more: There's a merrier way we know Leading to a lovelier night— See, your casement all a-glow Diamonding the wonder-light. III Fling the flowery lattice wide, Let the silken ladder down, Swiftly to the garden glide Glimmering in your long white gown, Come, unsandalled and divine; Let the blossoms stain your feet And the stars behold them shine. IV Swift, our pawing palfreys wait, And the page—Dan Cupid—frets, Holding at the garden gate Reins that chime like castanets, Bits a-foam with fairy flakes Flung from seas whence Venus rose: Come, for Father Time awakes And the star of morning glows. V Swift—one satin foot shall sway Half a heart-beat in my hand, Swing to stirrup and swift away Down the road to lovers' land: Ride—the moon is dusky gold, Ride—our hearts are young and warm, Ride—the hour is growing old, And the next may break the charm. VI Swift, ere we that thought the song Full—for others—of the truth, We that smiled, contented, strong, Dowered with endless wealth of youth, Find that like a summer cloud Youth indeed has crept away, Find the robe a clinging shroud And the hair be-sprent with grey. VII Ride—we'll leave it all behind, All the turmoil and the tears, All the mad vindictive blind Yelping of the heartless years! Ride—the ringing world's in chase, Yet we've slipped old Father Time, By the love-light in your face And the jingle of this rhyme. VIII Ride—for still the hunt is loud! Ride—our steeds can hold their own! Yours, a satin sea-wave, proud, Queen, to be your living throne, Glittering with the foam and fire Churned from seas whence Venus rose, Tow'rds the gates of our desire Gloriously burning flows. IX He, with streaming flanks a-smoke, Needs no spur of blood-stained steel: Only that soft thudding stroke Once, o' the little satin heel, Drives his mighty heart, your slave, Bridled with these bells of rhyme, Onward, like a crested wave Thundering out of hail of Time. X On, till from a rosy spark Fairy-small as gleams your hand, Broadening as we cleave the dark, Dawn the gates of lovers' land, Lifted through the purple night Catch the deepening glory now And your eyes the wonder-light. XI E'en as tow'rd your face I lean Swooping nigh the gates of bliss, I the king and you the queen Crown each other with a kiss. Riding, soaring like a song Burn we tow'rds the heaven above, You the sweet and I the strong And in both the fire of love. XII Ride—though now the distant chase Knows that we have slipped old Time, Lift the love-light of your face, Shake the bridle of this rhyme, See, the flowers of night and day Streaming past on either hand, Ride into the eternal May, Ride into the lovers' land. |