Poems (Taylor)/Dialogue
DIALOGUE
I.
Ghost Without: Dost thou remember?
Thy window-pane is lit;
What music under it
Stings thro' the wind and rain?
She Within: Oh! Clad in cloth-of-gold,
Crowned like a queen of old,
Have I to do with pain?
Why should I remember?
Thy window-pane is lit;
What music under it
Stings thro' the wind and rain?
She Within: Oh! Clad in cloth-of-gold,
Crowned like a queen of old,
Have I to do with pain?
Why should I remember?
II.
Ghost: Dost thou remember?
For it is All Souls' Eve,
Poor soul that could not cleave,
Poor craven Convertite,—
For it is All Souls' Eve,
Poor soul that could not cleave,
Poor craven Convertite,—
She:Ah! Here the Bridegroom's kiss,
Perfume of ambergris,
Braziers of silver light!
Why should I remember?
Perfume of ambergris,
Braziers of silver light!
Why should I remember?
II.
Ghost:Dost thou remember
No colour of the Past?—
She:Its beauty hath me fast.
Beneath mine eyes quaint kohl,
Far sound of silver bells
Within my voice of spells,
Faint sweetness in my soul,
It is. Do I remember?
No colour of the Past?—
She:Its beauty hath me fast.
Beneath mine eyes quaint kohl,
Far sound of silver bells
Within my voice of spells,
Faint sweetness in my soul,
It is. Do I remember?
IV.
Ghost:Dost thou remember
The love, the pain, the sin?—
She:O far-off violin,
Spare now to vex and pierce.
What epithalamies
Of mockery are these?
His eyes are kind as tears.
I will not remember!
The love, the pain, the sin?—
She:O far-off violin,
Spare now to vex and pierce.
What epithalamies
Of mockery are these?
His eyes are kind as tears.
I will not remember!
V.
Ghost:Dost thou remember
The long strange kisses given
Beneath a rose-pale heaven?—
My mouth is purple yet,
She:Like to a grape new-pressed,
A wound upon the breast.—
How then may I forget?
And so I must remember!
The long strange kisses given
Beneath a rose-pale heaven?—
My mouth is purple yet,
She:Like to a grape new-pressed,
A wound upon the breast.—
How then may I forget?
And so I must remember!
VI.
Ghost:Dost thou remember
The glory and the guilt,
The magic moonlight spilt
Between the aspens wet?—
She:Out to the rain and wind
I come, for I can find
No place where to forget.
God, how I remember!
The glory and the guilt,
The magic moonlight spilt
Between the aspens wet?—
She:Out to the rain and wind
I come, for I can find
No place where to forget.
God, how I remember!