Michael Robartes and the Dancer/An Image from a Past Life
AN IMAGE FROM A PAST LIFE
HENever until this night have I been stirred.The elaborate star-light has thrown reflectionsOn the dark stream,Till all the eddies gleam;And thereupon there comes that screamFrom terrified, invisible beast or bird:Image of poignant recollection.
SHEAn image of my heart that is smitten throughOut of all likelihood, or reason,And when at last,Youth’s bitterness being past,I had thought that all my days were castAmid most lovely places; smitten as thoughIt had not learned its lesson.
HEWhy have you laid your hands upon my eyes?What can have suddenly alarmed youWhereon ’twere bestMy eyes should never rest?What is there but the slowly fading west,The river imaging the flashing skies,All that to this moment charmed you?
SHEA sweetheart from another life floats thereAs though she had been forced to linger From vague distressOr arrogant loveliness,Merely to loosen out a tressAmong the starry eddies of her hairUpon the paleness of a finger.
HEBut why should you grow suddenly afraidAnd start—I at your shoulder—ImaginingThat any night could bringAn image up, or anythingEven to eyes that beauty had driven mad,But images to make me fonder.
SHENow she has thrown her arms above her head;Whether she threw them up to flout me,Or but to find,Now that no fingers bind,That her hair streams upon the wind,I do not know, that know I am afraidOf the hovering thing night brought me.