"Our loves were woven of one splendid thread, But not our lives, though we had been, we twain, Linked as in worship at the Spartan fane Of him who brought his brother from the dead. Ah, would our God were like his gods that said: Such love as this shall not have flowered in vain, And let the younger Castor live again The space that Pollux lay with Death instead. Dear, I had lain so gladly in the grave Not for a part of time but for God's whole Eternity, had died, yea oft, to save Not half your life, but one short hour. Your soul Was all too pure; mine had no right to ask From heaven such mercy as a saviour's task. "They say the Olympian grace was not content With housing Death, but giving Love the key. It set the troths that guided you and me Among the jewels of the firmament; And there they dwell for ever and assent To each propitious ploughing of the sea. The coasting-pilots of Infinity Well know The Brothers. So your sails were bent, Young fathomer of the blue. I linger here With following gaze that tugs my heart-strings taut All day; but every night an Argonaut Slips through the streets and darkness, seaward, far Beyond the limitations of his sphere Into the vacant place beside a star." So crooned he desolate in his dim shop, Till I became all ears and had no eyes. The fellow cheated me of three _dinars_. IX THE EXPERIENCE OF THE DOOR Slow into Kum the Glaring trailed The caravan. Its courage failed A moment. Only dust-clouds veiled The sun, that overhead From fields The Plough had turned to grain, Star-honey laden on The Wain And spices from the wind-domain, Was baking angel-bread. (Astronomers in Baghdad say That Allah gave the Milky Way To feed his guests, the dead.) Even as the dead the pilgrims lay Until the sun received his pay-- Man counts in gold, but he in grey-- Then, whining as one daft, A voice crept to each sleeper's ear, And one by one sat up to hear It soughing like a Seistan mere Where nothing ever laughed. A blur at elbow on the floor Cried: "Sleep! 'Tis but the tavern door Amoaning in the draught." "Ay," said the master of the inn, "A black-faced gaper that lets in The dark, my creditors, and kin! Last month it strained my wrist, did The lout, so hard it slams. This week Claims it for fuel. See the leak Of air it springs! Its hinges creak, Its wood is warped and twisted. 'Tis heavy-hearted as a man, Stark, crazy thing!... It feels uncann...." The wheezing voice persisted.