In Sanctuary

THE young Spring air was strong like wine, The sky reflected in your eyes Was of a blue as deep-divine As ever glowed in southern skies. We passed from out the sunny lane Into the green wood's shadowing; And, sudden, all Love's words seemed vain In that calm temple of the Spring. Our god hears fair and tuneful words, And splendid flowers his altars bear; With choric song of leaves and birds, Another god was worshipped there. Silent, we passed the woodland, through The coloured maze that Springtime weaves-- The light leaves dancing to the blue, The sunlight dancing to the leaves; I could not speak. I touched your hand At the green arch that ends the wood: 'Ah--if she should not understand!' Ah--if you had not understood!