Classic Poem

He abode in that place a fortnight:
He helped the wood-cutter fell great oaks,
Swinging lustily the axe.

All that time his Mother hovered over him,
But her image had grown wan and white and thin,
Like a shadow against a second light.

Sometimes the girl brought them their midday meal,
But for love of each other, they dared not look at each other.

Then at night, before the roaring logs in the hearth,
They sat: she sang: he told tales out of his youth.

Once the father slept, and as they said good-night,
He dared to kiss her:
Her lips were smooth as a lily-petal,
Or smooth as a curved stem of the Indian-pipe:
And her breath was the full rich breath and sweet
Of meadow kine:
Through the kiss, and the quick touch of her back,
He felt her body as a gliding stem of wonder, so young, so sweet …

But on his couch he laboured and panted:
His joy ran into distress: the light darkened:
He was in a pain that amazed him:
A poison lurked in the wine,
A serpent coiled in the girl's heart.