Classic Poem

I

The dearest one was she to whom it fell
To walk and wear her beauty as in a play
To be enacted nobly on a great day;
And stormily we approved the bosom-swell
And the tones tinkling. For her touch and smell
I cast bright flowers, till garlanded she stood
Scared with her splendor, as in the sight of God
A pale girl curtseying with an asphodel.

No, No, she answered in the extreme of fear,
I cannot. On the dropping of each petal
Rode one that disrespected both the little
Bloom and lady; him she was looking at,
Not me the praiser; she was too honest for that,
I was such earth that whispered in her ear.


II

The loveliest are perished. And now uprise
Ghosts in this garden, that hollow and clamorous
Come as blanched lepers crying, " Do not spurn us, "
Ringing in my ears, wetting my eyes,
The obsequious phantoms and disbodied sighs.
Soon they are frightened, and go fast; a smoke
Which clung about my quincebushes, then broke,
And while I look is smeared upon the skies.

O Hilda, proudest of the ladies gone,
Wreathing my roses with blue bitter dust,
Think not I would reject you, for I must
Weep for your nakedness and no retinue
And leap up as of old to follow you, —
But flesh hath monstrous gravity, as of stone.