Classic Poem

I was not aware of you till yesterday,
Hidden, impalpable, the dual I.
There was till then but one self to deny,
One self to feed, to order, to obey ...
But now there is you — you who know everything,
Sharing one mouth, one glance, one habiting,
One speech for thought more far, more alien
Than the salt water from the honey comb.
Two hands twice-willed beneath one common skin
To different gestures, one small carnal home
Furnished for wonder, and arrayed for sin;
I never can be I now, nor alone.

For you are with me, never to be cloven,
Closer than two bird-notes, than husk and seed,
Than fire round stubble more enmeshed and woven,
Than the sharp brine against the cold sea-stare
Of sailing fish, than plum's cheek to the air,
Closer than sea to sand, than wave to weed.

I am the I of my own age and race
Who knows its times, and shapes itself thereto —
The laws, the codes, the pleasures of its days.
I am the named, the known; the unknown, you —
The nameless dweller in a timeless place.
I am the shaper, you the spoiler of life,
I have the soul's sword, you black-magic powers;
I would build peace and shield my house from strife,
You laugh best at the shaking of the towers.
You have no law, no pity, no disgust,
You are but a moving Lust
That wants, and has no being but a want.
Born in the slime you keep the primal path,
The forbidden grove you haunt,
Black step-sister beside me on the hearth!

I know you now, myself, in me you wait,
Unblameable, unpunished, unarraigned.
I the besieged, you the importunate,
My shaking hands are stained
When you have taken blood.
You are the kept self, magic is your art,
Eternal Lilith! The irresolute good
By your gold hair is strangled at my heart.
My self, I cannot trust you, cannot plead,
You have no heart to soften or make bleed;
You cannot feast, though, while I keep my fast,
You cannot see when I am willed to sight,
From our two selves one shade alone is cast,
From our shared eyes but one can see the light.
And I can conquer! Rage and rave you on!
I am the conscious mind, you the blind sin,
You are buried deeper, I am nearer the sun
In our common grave, I come of the better kin.

For at the end, if I should use you well,
In those last nights when you have lost your power
And have over-run me, over-spent and spurred,
And when I cannot flame and cannot flower,
Am weary and old, not to be stung or stirred,
What have you for that hour?
You will forsake me, having lost your thrall,
When the lights are out, and the night is closing down,
Will leave me to the ashes and the brown,
The broken fruits, and the empty cups and hall.

But if I master you then you shall be
A small grey shade, your head upon my knee,
Like a dog, twitching but obedient,
While we shall dream, sadly and separately
The bitter ways we went.
You have woven in vain your spells of sound and sight,
Desire and her nameless sisters crying aloud,
The world's wild maying, the haunted, desperate thing
That men call Love, all these I have broken and bowed.
I can bear music, I am friends once more with night,
I am at peace with Spring.

The battle is over. Cries and conflicts ceased,
Life troubles me no more,
But not towards the shouting and the feast
Goes at the day's end such a conqueror.
Counting old scars we shall sit, while silence brings
Her twilight counsellings, but when we die
We die together, at last inseparable things,
Acquainted and at peace, my self and I.