Fuess and Stearns, comps. The Little Book of Society Verse. 1922.
By. Algernon Charles SwinburneAn Interlude
I
I rode where the woods were wet,
Between the dawn and the daytime;
The spring was glad that we met.
Though the ways and the woods smelt sweet,—
The breath at your lips that panted,
The pulse of the grass at your feet.
And the green grew golden above;
And the flag-flowers lightened with laughter,
And the meadowsweet shook with love.
Moved soft as a weak wind blows:
You passed me as April passes,
With face made out of a rose.
Your bright foot paused at the sedge;
It might be to watch the tender
Light leaves in the springtime hedge.
With flowery frost of May;
It might be a bird in the branches,
It might be a thorn in the way.
With foot drawn back from the dew,
Till a sunbeam straight like a finger
Struck sharp through the leaves at you,
And a bird to the right sang Here;
And the arch of the leaves was hollow,
And the meaning of May was clear.
I knew what the bird’s note said:
By the dawn and the dewfall anointed,
You were queen by the gold on your head.
Recalls a regret of the sun,
I remember, forget, and remember
What Love saw done and undone.
The day and the way we met:
You hoped we were both broken-hearted.
And knew we should both forget.
Seemed still to murmur and smile
As you murmured and smiled for an hour:
I saw you turn at the stile.
You lifted, and waved, and passed,
With head hung down to the bosom,
And pale, as it seemed, at last.
That neither is most to blame,
If you’ve forgotten my kisses,
And I’ve forgotten your name.