Michael Robartes Remembers Forgotten Beauty
When my arms wrap you round I pressMy heart upon the lovelinessThat has long faded from the world;The jewelled crowns that kings have hurledIn shadowy pools, when armies fled;The love-tales wove with silken threadBy dreaming ladies upon clothThat has made fat the murderous moth;The roses that of old time wereWoven by ladies in their hair,The dew-cold lilies ladies boreThrough many a sacred corridorWhere such gray clouds of incense roseThat only the gods' eyes did not close:For that pale breast and lingering handCome from a more dream-heavy land,A more dream-heavy hour than this;And when you sigh from kiss to kissI hear white Beauty sighing, too,For hours when all must fade like dewBut flame on flame, deep under deep,Throne over throne, where in half sleepTheir swords upon their iron kneesBrood her high lonely mysteries.
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