Then she unbound the gold that clasped her waist: Undid her hair: and, like a flower faced, Stood sweet an unswayed stem that ran to bud In bloom and beauty of young womanhood. And fragrance was to her as natural As odor to the rose. And white and tall, All ardor and all fervor, through the room She moved, a presence as of pale perfume. And all his eyes and lips and limbs were fire: His tongue, delirious, babbled of desire; Cried, "Thine is devil's kindness, which is even Worse than fiend's fury, since the soul sees Heaven Among eternal torments unforgiven. Temptation neighbored, like a bloody rust On a bright blade, leaves ugly stains; and lust Is love's undoing when love's limbs are cast Naked before desire. What love so chaste But that such nearness of what should be hid Makes it a lawless love?--But thou hast bid. Rest thou. I love thee; love thee as dost know, And all my love shall battle with love's foe." "Thy word," she said. And pure as peaks that keep Snow-drifted crowns, upon him seemed to sweep An avalanche of virtue in one look. And he, whose very soul within him shook, Exclaimed, "'Tis thine!"--And hopes, that in his brain Had risen with rainbow gleams, set sad as rain At that high look she gave of chastest pain. Then turned, his face deep in his hands: and she Laid the broad blade between them instantly. And so they lay its iron between them twain: Unsleeping he, for all the brute disdain Of passion in him struggled up and stood A rebel wrangling with the brain and blood. An hour stole by: she slept, or seemed to sleep. The winds of night blew vigorous from the deep With rain-scents of storm-watered wood and wold, And breathed of ocean breakers moonlight-rolled. He drowsed; and time passed stealing as for one Whose life is but a dream in Avalon. Vast bulks of black, wind-shattered rack went by The casement's square of heaven,--a crystal dye, A crown of moonlight, round each cloudy head,-- That seemed the ghosts of giant kings long-dead. And then he thought she lightly laughed and sighed, So soft a taper had not bent aside, And leaned her warm face, seen through loosened hair, Above him, whispering, soft as is a prayer, "Behold! the sword! I take the sword away!" It curved and clashed where the strewn rushes lay; Shone glassy, glittering like a watery beam Of moonlight, in the moonlight. He did deem She moved in sleep and dreamed perverse nor wist The thing she did, until two hot lips kissed His wondering eyes to knowledge of her thought. Then said he, "Love, my word! is it then naught?" But now he felt fierce kisses over and over, And laughter of "Thy word?--Art thou my lover?-- Kisses are more than words!--Come, give them me!-- As for thy word--I give it back to thee!"