Epithalamion

　　I.

　　Thou aged unreluctant earth who dost

　　with quivering continual thighs invite

　　the thrilling rain the slender paramour

　　to toy with thy extraordinary lust,

　　(the sinuous rain which rising from thy bed

　　steals to his wife the sky and hour by hour

　　wholly renews her pale flesh with delight)

　　-immortally whence are the high gods fled?

　　Speak elm eloquent pandar with thy nod

　　significant to the ecstatic earth

　　in token of his coming whom her soul

　　burns to embrace-and didst thou know the god

　　from but the imprint of whose cloven feet

　　the shrieking dryad sought her leafy goal,

　　at the mere echo of whose shining mirth

　　the furious hearts of mountains ceased to beat?

　　Wind beautifully who wanderest

　　over smooth pages of forgotten joy

　　proving the peaceful theorems of the flowers

　　-didst e'er depart upon more exquisite quest?

　　and did thy fortunate fingers sometime dwell

　　(within a greener shadow of secret bowers)

　　among the curves of that delicious boy

　　whose serious grace one goddess loved too well?

　　Chryselephantine Zeus Olympian

　　sceptred colossus of the Pheidian soul

　　whose eagle frights creation,in whose palm

　　Nike presents the crown sweetest to man,

　　whose lilied robe the sun's white hands emboss,

　　betwixt whose absolute feet anoint with calm

　　of intent stars circling the acerb pole

　　poises,smiling,the diadumenos

　　in whose young chiseled eyes the people saw

　　their once again victorious Pantarkes

　　(whose grace the prince of artists made him bold

　　to imitate between the feet of awe),

　　thunderer whose omnipotent brow showers

　　its curls of unendured eternal gold

　　over the infinite breast in bright degrees,

　　whose pillow is the graces and the hours,

　　father of gods and men whose subtle throne

　　twain sphinxes bear each with a writhing youth

　　caught to her brazen breasts,whose foot-stool tells

　　how fought the looser of the warlike zone

　　of her that brought forth tall Hippolytus,

　　lord on whose pedestal the deep expels

　　(over Selene's car closing uncouth)

　　of Helios the sweet wheels tremulous-

　　are there no kings in Argos,that the song

　　is silent,of the steep unspeaking tower

　　within whose brightening strictness Danae

　　saw the night severed and the glowing throng

　　descend,felt on her flesh the amorous strain

　　of gradual hands and yielding to that fee

　　her eager body's unimmortal flower

　　knew in the darkness a more burning rain?

　　2.

　　And still the mad magnificent herald Spring

　　assembles beauty from forgetfulness

　　with the wild trump of April:witchery

　　of sound and odour drives the wingless thing

　　man forth in the bright air,for now the red

　　leaps in the maple's cheek,and suddenly

　　by shining hordes in sweet unserious dress

　　ascends the golden crocus from the dead.

　　On dappled dawn forth rides the pungent sun

　　with hooded day preening upon his hand

　　followed by gay untimid final flowers

　　(which dressed in various tremulous armor stun

　　the eyes of ragged earth who sees them pass)

　　while hunted from his kingdom winter cowers,

　　seeing green armies steadily expand

　　hearing the spear-song of the marching grass.

　　A silver sudden parody of snow

　　tickles the air to golden tears,and hark!

　　the flicker's laughing yet,while on the hills

　　the pines deepen to whispers primeval and throw

　　backward their foreheads to the barbarous bright

　　sky,and suddenly from the valley thrills

　　the unimaginable upward lark

　　and drowns the earth and passes into light

　　(slowly in life's serene perpetual round

　　a pale world gathers comfort to her soul,

　　hope richly scattered by the abundant sun

　　invades the new mosaic of the ground

　　-let but the incurious curtaining dusk be drawn

　　surpassing nets are sedulously spun

　　to snare the brutal dew,-the authentic scroll

　　of fairie hands and vanishing with the dawn).

　　Spring,that omits no mention of desire

　　in every curved and curling thing,yet holds

　　continuous intercourse-through skies and trees

　　the lilac's smoke the poppy's pompous fire

　　the pansy's purple patience and the grave

　　frailty of daises-by what rare unease

　　revealed of teasingly transparent folds-

　　with man's poor soul superlatively brave.

　　Surely from robes of particoloured peace

　　with mouth flower-faint and undiscovered eyes

　　and dim slow perfect body amorous

　　(whiter than lilies which are born and cease

　　for being whiter than this world)exhales

　　the hovering high perfume curious

　　of that one month for whom the whole years dies,

　　risen at length from palpitating veils.

　　O still miraculous May!O shining girl

　　of time untarnished!O small intimate

　　gently primeval hands,frivolous feet

　　divine!O singular and breathless pearl!

　　O indefinable frail ultimate pose!

　　O visible beatitude sweet sweet

　　intolerable!silence immaculate

　　of god's evasive audible great rose!

　　3.

　　Lover,lead forth thy love unto that bed

　　prepared by whitest hands of waiting years,

　　curtained with wordless worship absolute,

　　unto the certain altar at whose head

　　stands that clear candle whose expecting breath

　　exults upon the tongue of flame half-mute,

　　(haste ere some thrush with silver several tears

　　complete the perfumed paraphrase of death).

　　Now is the time when all occasional things

　　close into silence,only one tree,one

　　svelte translation of eternity

　　unto the pale meaning of heaven clings,

　　(whose million leaves in winsome indolence

　　simmer upon thinking twilight momently)

　　as down the oblivious west's numerous dun

　　magnificence conquers magnificence.

　　In heaven's intolerable athanor

　　inimitably tortured the base day

　　utters at length her soft intrinsic hour,

　　and from those tenuous fires which more and more

　　sink and are lost the divine alchemist,

　　the magus of creation,lifts a flower-

　　whence is the world's insufferable clay

　　clothed with incognizable amethyst.

　　Lady at whose imperishable smile

　　the amazed doves flicker upon sunny wings

　　as if in terror of eternity,

　　(or seeming that they would mistrust a while

　　the moving of beauteous dead mouths throughout

　　that very proud transparent company

　　of quivering ghosts-of-love which scarcely sings

　　drifting in slow diaphanous faint rout),

　　queen in the inconceivable embrace

　　of whose tremendous hair that blossom stands

　　whereof is most desire,yet less than those

　　twain perfect roses whose ambrosial grace,

　　goddess,thy crippled thunder-forging groom

　　or the loud lord of skipping maenads knows,-

　　having Discordia's apple in thy hands,

　　which the scared shepherd gave thee for his doom-

　　O thou within the chancel of whose charms

　　the tall boy god of everlasting war

　　received the shuddering sacrament of sleep,

　　betwixt whose cool incorrigible arms

　　impaled upon delicious mystery,

　　with gaunt limbs reeking of the whispered deep,

　　deliberate groping ocean fondled o'er

　　the warm long flower of unchastity,

　　imperial Cytherea,from frail foam

　　sprung with irrevocable nakedness

　　to strike the young world into smoking song-

　　as the first star perfects the sensual dome

　　of darkness,and the sweet strong final bird

　　transcends the sight,O thou to whom belong

　　th ehearts of lovers!-I beseech thee bless

　　thy suppliant singer and his wandering word.