DAPHNE
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I
know that face!
In some lone forest place,
When June brings back the laurel to the hills,
Where shade and sunlight lace,
Where
all day long
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5 |
The
brown birds make their song—
A music that seems never to have known
Dismay nor haste nor wrong—
I once
before
Have seen thee by the shore, |
10 |
As if
about to shed the flowery guise
And be thyself once more.
Dear, shy, soft face,
With just the elfin trace
That lends thy human beauty the last touch
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15 |
Of
wild, elusive grace!
Can
it be true,
A god did once pursue
Thy gleaming beauty through the glimmering wood,
Drenched in the Dorian dew,
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20 |
Too mad to stay
His hot and headstrong way,
Demented by the fragrance of thy flight,
Heedless of thy dismay?
But
I to thee
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25 |
More
gently fond would be,
Nor less a lover woo thee with soft words
And woodland melody;
Take
pipe and play
Each forest fear away;
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30 |
Win
thee to idle in the leafy shade
All the long Summer day;
Tell thee old tales
Of love, that still avails
More than all mighty things in this great world,
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35 |
Still
wonderworks nor fails;
Teach
thee new lore,
How to love more and more,
And find the magical delirium
In joys unguessed before.
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40 |
I would try over
And over to discover
Some wild, sweet, foolish, irresistible
New way to be thy lover—
New,
wondrous ways |
45 |
To
fill thy golden days,
Thy lovely pagan body with delight,
Thy loving heart with praise.
For
I would learn,
Deep in the brookside fern,
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50 |
The
magic of the syrinx whispering low
With bubbly fall and turn;
Mock
every note
Of the green woodbird's throat,
Till some wild strain, impassioned yet serene,
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55 |
Should
form and float
Far through the hills,
Where
mellow sunlight fills
The world with joy, and from the purple vines
The brew of life distils.
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60 |
Ah,
then indeed
Thy
heart should have no need
To tremble at a footfall in the brake,
And bid thy bright limbs speed.
But night would come,
|
65 |
And I should make thy home
In the deep pines, lit by a yellow star
Hung in the dark blue dome—
A fragrant
house
Of woven balsam boughs, |
70 |
Where
the great Cyprian mother should receive
Our warm unsullied vows. |
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