Fatima

O

VE,

Love,

Love!

O withering might!

O sun, that from thy noonday height Shudderest when I strain my sight,

Throbbing thro' all thy heat and light,      Lo, falling from my constant mind,      Lo, parch'd and wither'd, deaf and blind,      I whirl like leaves in roaring wind. Last night I wasted hateful hours Below the city's eastern towers:

I thirsted for the brooks, the showers:

I roll'd among the tender flowers:      I crush'd them on my breast, my mouth;      I look'd athwart the burning drouth      Of that long desert to the south. Last night, when some one spoke his name,

From my swift blood that went and came A thousand little shafts of flame Were shiver'd in my narrow frame.      O Love,

O fire! once he drew      With one long kiss my whole soul thro'      My lips, as sunlight drinketh dew. Before he mounts the hill,

I know He cometh quickly: from below Sweet gales, as from deep gardens, blow Before him, striking on my brow.      In my dry brain my spirit soon,      Down-deepening from swoon to swoon,      Faints like a daled morning moon. The wind sounds like a silver wire,

And from beyond the noon a fire Is pour'd upon the hills, and nigher The skies stoop down in their desire;      And, isled in sudden seas of light,      My heart, pierced thro' with fierce delight,      Bursts into blossom in his sight. My whole soul waiting silently,

All naked in a sultry sky,

Droops blinded with his shining eye:

I will possess him or will die.      I will grow round him in his place,      Grow, live, die looking on his face,      Die, dying clasp'd in his embrace.