L. P. HARTLEY (BALLIOL)

THE conversation waned and waxed, I was there: you were there: Doubtless a few were overtaxed, Talking was more than they could bear. The aura of each candle-flame Excited me, excited you; I felt you in each diadem, Now in the yellow, now the blue. The conversation waxed and waned: Question, reply; question, reply: We, for our intercourse, disdained Such palpable machinery. Columnar in transparent gloom, Symbolical, inviolate, Those candles held the spell of some Campanile or minaret, Which still takes in, as it exhales, The mood of joy or orison; With hoarded ceremonials Enfranchising communion— Till every spoken word or thought, However alien and profane, Becomes the medium and resort Where spirits spirits entertain; So, idle talk’s quintessences Gleamed in the candles’ radiance With gathered stores of unproved bliss: The multiplied inheritance Of each succeeding moment.... More Perfect in form the flames appeared; Their arduous strivings overbore Slight wayward wisps that swayed and veered. They changed their contours, one and all, Carefully, persistently, With efforts economical That had their will of you and me,— For we somehow were party to The issue of their enterprise; Confounded in their overthrow, Triumphant in their victories. The alternation of each flame —Thinning here—swelling there— Compell’d our souls into the same Compass,—ampler or narrower. We knew that when those luminous spires Hung upwards, pacified, and tranc’d, Pois’d betwixt all and no desires, Beyond their accidents advanc’d,— We, their adepts, might acquiesce: The promised consummation Would drown our wills in its excess, And mingle both our souls in one. When suddenly a permanence, —A flutter of wings before rest— Drew down to those flame-forms: our sense Was steeped in it, folded, caress’d.... A casual devastating gust (The jolt, the sickening recoil!) Our universe in chaos thrust; And, not content to spoil Our husbanded endeavour, threw A mocking, flickering light, Devour’d by shadows, on us two: The talk became more bright. We entered into it with zest; Question, reply; question, reply: And lookers-on were much impressed By our inane garrulity.