Poems (Scudder)/The Mother of Merovee
THE MOTHER OF MEROVEE
As with both hands she backward drew the mass Of tawny hair that veiled her to the knee Heavy with wet, and forward leaned to see Mirrored as clear as in unwrinkled glass Shoulder and bosom smooth and rosy warm, And the sweet dimpling of her girlish throat, The blinding azure seemed to rise and float And dazzle toward her in a wondrous form Of ivory and gold and chrysoprase With fins that opalescent smote the spray, And locks that outward spreading hotly flamed Against the paler sunlight, and a face Of fierce inhuman beauty. Flee away? Too late—she waited shrinking and ashamed.