And you remember, in the afternoon
The sea and the sky went grey,
as if there had sunk
A flocculent dust on the floor of the world: the
festoon
Of the sky
sagged dusty as spider cloth,
And coldness clogged the sea, till it ceased to
croon.
A dank, sickening scent came up from the
grime
Of weed that
blackened the shore, so that I recoiled
Feeling the raw cold dun me:
and all the time
You
leapt about on the slippery rocks, and threw
The words that rang with a
brassy, shallow chime.
And all day long that raw and ancient cold
Deadened me through, till the
grey downs darkened to sleep.
Then I longed for you with your mantle of love
to fold
Me over, and
drive from out of my body the deep
Cold that had sunk to my soul, and there kept
hold.
But still to me all evening long you were
cold,
And I was numb
with a bitter, deathly ache;
Till old days drew me back into their
fold,
And dim sheep
crowded me warm with companionship,
And old ghosts clustered me close, and sleep was
cajoled.
I slept till dawn at the window blew in like
dust,
Like the
linty, raw-cold dust disturbed from the floor
Of a disused room: a grey pale
light like must
That
settled upon my face and hands till it seemed
To flourish there, as pale
mould blooms on a crust.
Then I rose in fear, needing you fearfully,
For I thought you were warm as
a sudden jet of blood.
I thought I could plunge in your spurting
hotness, and be
Clean of the cold and the must. — With my hand on the
latch
I heard you in
your sleep speak strangely to me.
And I dared not enter, feeling suddenly
dismayed.
So I went
and washed my deadened flesh in the sea
And came back tingling clean,
but worn and frayed
With cold, like the shell of the moon: and strange it
seems
That my love
has dawned in rose again, like the love of a maid.