from Crescent Black

Thou wert alone; I chanced to see
the umbra of thy shape
that moved like rushes nymphean
upon the golden lake.

Thy sight was unbeknown to me,
an empress of the glade
with copper-solite aureole
of which thy hair had made.

The smokegrass and the elder vine
wert tangled in thine hair!
Thou sought for one to rescue thee,
and found me standing there.

By two things cometh kindling
of memory and desire:
for ache of happy unity,
and the commingling fire.

By all that grows within the glade,
O! let not come to thee
untempered, thy communal joy
by days of misery.

But when the branch shall yield the Om,
and love at last is ripe,
then let not fire nor thistleweed
bereave thee of thy sight!

The twinning vines, the carmine air
shall even cease to be
of nature, affectation cold,
and join in harmony.

O! happy shall the wedded be,
for godhood not a care.
A lonely rule hath avarice,
with not a consort there.

Until within yon happiness,
that amaranthine shore,
may solace in the verdant glade
be thine forevermore.

When time hath bled thine hallowed years,
and grieved thee of thy past,
then look upon thine infinite,
and seek the everlast.

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