Volume 23 — ROMANCE.

I would I were mighty, victorious, A monarch of steel and of gold— I would I were one of the glorious Divinities hallowed of old— A god of the ancient sweet fashion Who mingled with women and men, A deity human in passion, Transhuman in strength and in ken. For then I could render the pleasure I win from the sight of your face; For then I could utter my treasure Of homage and thanks for your grace; I could dower, illumine, and gladden, Could rescue from perils and tears, And my speech could vibrate and madden With eloquence worthy your ears. You meet me: you smile and speak kindly; One minute I marvel and gaze, Idolatrous, worshipping blindly, Yet mindful of decorous ways. You pass; and the glory is ended, Though lustres and sconces may glow: The goddess who made the scene splendid Has vanished; and darkly I go. You know not how swiftly you mounted The throne in the depths of my eyes; You care not how meekly I counted Those moments for pearls of the skies; Or, knowing it, all is forgotten The moment I pass from your sight— Consigned to the fancies begotten Of chaos and slumber and night. But I—I remember your glances, Your carelessest gesture and word, And out of them fashion romances Man never yet uttered nor heard; Romances too splendid for mortals, Too sweet for a planet of dole; Romances which open the portals Of Eden, and welcome my soul.