Page:Poems Forrest.djvu/86

Was nobody there when the moon was full?
 The dovecote sheltered a grey quartette,
 But they slept, lid-blind, to the moonbeams' fret,
Nor guessed at the silver pull
 That drew me out of a restless bed
 To lurk in a coppice heart instead!

The rose clung shuddering to her stem,
 Fluttered the leaves on her dainty tree,
 As she sobbed, "He is here to rifle me,"
'Neath her dewdrop diadem.
 And yet when the thin faun lips drew near
 I heard her coo to his furtive ear!

Was nobody there through the unmarked hours?
 A quince rod bent in the grove beyond,
 A shadow passed o'er the gleaming pond
Of a head enwreathed in flowers,
 And this morning, deep in the moss-mat's woof,
 I found the print of a blunted hoof!

And the rose—no more will her red heart stir,
 She is bruised and wilted and spent and torn
 As though the burden of lust was borne
And the soul kissed out of her.
 But she did not turn from me when I came,
 She seemed too weary to think of shame.

Was there nobody there when the moon was full?
 It might have been only a widening leaf
 'Where an opening moon-flower sighed relief
Or the puff of a dried toadstool . . .
 Yet all day one voice in the leaf-choir leads,
 The echo left by a pipe of reeds!