The silly elk, the spotted fawn, And all dumb beasts that came to drink, That stealthy stole upon the brink In that dim while that lies between The coming night and going dawn, On seeing her familiar face Would fearless stop and stand in place. She was so kind, the beasts of night Gave her the road as if her right; The panther crouching overhead In sheen of moss would hear her tread And bend his eyes, but never stir Lest he by chance might frighten her. Yet in her splendid strength, her eyes, There lay the lightning of the skies; The love-hate of the lioness, To kill the instant, or caress: A pent-up soul that sometimes grew Impatient; why, she hardly knew. At last she sighed, uprose, and threw Her strong arms out as if to hand Her love, sun-born and all complete At birth, to some brave lover's feet On some far, fair, and unseen land, As knowing now not what to do! XI. How beautiful she was! Why, she Was inspiration! She was born To walk God's summer hills at morn, Nor waste her by this wood-dark sea. What wonder, then, her soul's white wings Beat at its bars, like living things! Once more she sighed! She wandered through The sea-bound wood, then stopped and drew Her hand above her face, and swept The lonesome sea, and all day kept Her face to sea, as if she knew Some day, some near or distant day, Her destiny should come that way. XII. How proud she was! How darkly fair! How full of faith, of love, of strength! Her calm, proud eyes! Her great hair's length,-- Her long, strong, tumbled, careless hair, Half curled and knotted anywhere, From brow to breast, from cheek to chin, For love to trip and tangle in! XIII. At last a tall strange sail was seen: It came so slow, so wearily, Came creeping cautious up the sea, As if it crept from out between The half-closed sea and sky that lay Tight wedged together, far away. She watched it, wooed it. She did pray It might not pass her by, but bring Some love, some hate, some anything, To break the awful loneliness That like a nightly nightmare lay Upon her proud and pent-up soul Until it barely brooked control. XIV. The ship crept silent up the sea, And came-- You cannot understand How fair she was, how sudden she Had sprung, full-grown, to womanhood: How gracious, yet how proud and grand; How glorified, yet fresh and free, How human, yet how more than good. XV. The ship stole slowly, slowly on;-- Should you in Californian field In ample flower-time behold The soft south rose lift like a shield Against the sudden sun at dawn, A double handful of heaped gold, Why you, perhaps, might understand How splendid and how queenly she Uprose beside that wood-set sea.