Poems (Bibesco)/XXXIII

by Elizabeth Bibesco

XXXIII

You who taught the sun his light
And rolled the darkness into night,
Who gave the air her liberty
And curled the currents of the sea;
You who turbaned gentian skies
With clouds of fleecy fineries,
Whose icy vision could impose
Her perfect transcience on a rose;
You who found a baby's hue
For Heaven; and chose an empty blue
With-which to save the infinite
From the bombardment of our sight;
You who taught music how to pry
Into a whisper's melody,
And gave the sunbeams cause to claim
Shadow as the true home of flame;
You from whom I learnt to bless
The unencumbered loneliness
That love must give and love must take,
You who taught my heart to break
And to cry out, while it was breaking,
"This is not sleeping, this is waking,"
In a mood of mockery
One day you gave myself to me!