A moment, like a wavering spark,
Holding her thus, did I care
Pale love lost in a snow of fear,
Her face lay there before my breast,
Hated myself, and the place, and my blood,
Repeating with tightened arms, and the hot blood's blindfold art.
And the sense of her clinging flesh was sweet
Warm as a flame in the close night air;
And guarded by a glittering tear,
That the black night hid her from me, blotted out every speck?
I leaned me forward to find her lips,
Of my arms, inert with dread, wilted in fear of my kiss.
Next my breast, where my own heart was beating;
Almost I hated her, she was so good,
And strange in my blood-swept ears was the sound
Which burned with rage, as I bade her come
When the lightning flew across her face,
And claim her utterly in a kiss,
Home, away home, ere the lightning floated forth again.
I heard the thunder, and felt the rain,
And lips apart with dumb cries;
Of the words I kept repeating,
Of a second, afraid of the clips
And my arms fell loose, and I was dumb.
And I laughed to feel it plunge and bound,
And I saw her for the flaring space
Where her arms and my neck's blood-surge could meet.
I felt the lurch and halt of her heart
Her breath flew warm against my neck,
A moment, and she was taken again in the merciful dark.