She knows the Moon shows maiden light--
The Sun's kiss urged in marriage-rite!
So, when her very night shall come,
Virginal, in her virgin home
When stars show unfamiliar faces,
Laughing for love in their high places--
When her essential lips are dumb
In a thronged panic of embraces--
Her maiden heart, her spousal breast,
Shall throb, surrendered and possessed,
Throb, passion-sweet and ungainsaid--
"Now at the last am I a Maid!"


_SONG-BURDEN_

I do confess I have no art
To tell the tale of my own heart.

Of lips and tears, of hearts and eyes,
I rhyme my rhymes and fear my fears;
And if of these I make you wise,
These pictured hearts, these lips, these tears,
There is nought to do; I have played my part.

And I, a captain of much guile,
Within your ranks dissensions preach
Till all are jealous, each of each--
Your eyes, lips, heart, a tear, a smile!