WAS it your body lifted up For Love to pour his rains into— Your body bent, a rosied cup, As rain fell from Love's cloud on you? So Love sank all your body through And left you bowed Beneath that slow-winged cloud. Or your mind was it, that but leaves The body swaying in the wind? With a mere thought the body heaves, Or any memory unkind. It is the mind, the dreaming mind That bends you low When cloud-shades sway and flow. And breast and thigh and strained arms shake Desiring each their fellow thought, With sadness in your eyes awake: O, wasting senses touched and wrought To the mind's purposes, and caught In the intense Wind that humbles sense— That humbles sense, as grasses blown One way and sighing in the wind. O Beauty, on Time's dungheap thrown Forgotten, till a thought unkind Creep burning through the new-waked mind, And you arise With wild love in your eyes. |