At even seated on a moss-crowned lowe,
With dreamful eyes, to watch the surfless tide's returning,
As sunlight slowly sank in golden glow.
Her voice had sighed within, it seemed forever and ever,
Through ocean, shore and sky, he breathed its breath,
He knew that might of magic nor of Time could never
Untwine his flowers fragrant over death.
She came- but bitter anguish brought alone her beauty
Unto his heart, which beat in dole forlore,
For now her look was loveless and his path was "Duty"
They parted coldly on the sunset shore.
She cannot know-for here no more her heart remembers
-For her he had been ever and ever this-
Her love, that flickered, died and left its cruel embers
To quell his spirit down in earth's abyss.
But he recalls- though veiled is now that earth-life anguished,
Far faded as a dim and darksome spell,
When through the endless years his spirit yearned and languished,
For faded fragrance of his Asphodel.
And now his endless joy is that re-meeting mellow,
-Her coldness conquered by death's victory-
Beside that same; that ancient sunset's dying yellow,
Now in realms more radiant: airs more free.
Their arms entwined for aeons, yet as just this moment,
In union blended after years of dole,
His sense is bliss, engendered from forgotten torment,
Her sense is radiance born of soul with soul.
Cyril Scott
