Who guides the shepherd and his crying flock Across the hills of twilight to their rest,

Will somehow spur and speed the laggard clock Until it marks the hour I shall be blest.

Come, Strong and Gentle, come my virile love: The door is open and the supper spread As the first star of evening, bright above, Beams down a blessing on this wine and bread. Come sup with me and then lie down beside This hungry heart that it be satisfied.

XIV

Now dance the plum trees in their veils of white. The apple trees adorned in pink and pearl Move mistily within the April night,

Raining their petals in a scented swirl.

A robin wakes from some recurrent dream, Making his brief complaint to sleeping friends. Low, liquid laughter from a star-flecked stream Is a soft melody that never ends.

The moon among the foxfire of the stars.

Her silver caravel sails down the sky.

The Pleiades are tangled in her spars,

Even as we lie tangled, you and I:

Caught in the net of love, from loving spentOur silence measure of our deep content.

XV

The echo of your going dies away;

Your last caress lies warm upon my mouth. Winter is here again; the sun leans south And there is sudden darkness in the day That woke to wonder in this quiet room. The bed is tumbled and the sheets astray. Housekeeper, Ho! Bring linen, bring the broomRepair the ravages where lovers lay

Lost in the gentle clasp of drowsy bliss.

It does not matter now whose hand first strayed

In exploration, or who bent to kiss

The problem that arose, and offered aid.

How perfect, Oh My Love, how excellent

Your sweet performance and your fond intent!

one

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