Two Loves by Lord Alfred Douglas

To join this community on Patreon, click here:⁠⁠https://www.patreon.com/cw/welcome2thepoetrypodcast⁠⁠I dreamed I stood upon a little hill,And at my feet there lay a ground, that seemedLike a waste garden, flowering at its willWith buds and blossoms. There were pools that dreamedBlack and unruffled; there were white liliesA few, and crocuses, and violetsPurple or pale, snake-like fritillariesScarce seen for the rank grass, and through green netsBlue eyes of shy peryenche winked in the sun.And there were curious flowers, before unknown,Flowers that were stained with moonlight, or with shadesOf Nature’s willful moods; and here a oneThat had drunk in the transitory toneOf one brief moment in a sunset; bladesOf grass that in an hundred springs had beenSlowly but exquisitely nurtured by the stars,And watered with the scented dew long cuppedIn lilies, that for rays of sun had seenOnly God’s glory, for never a sunrise marsThe luminous air of Heaven. Beyond, abrupt,A grey stone wall, o’ergrown with velvet mossUprose; and gazing I stood long, all mazedTo see a place so strange, so sweet, so fair.And as I stood and marvelled, lo! acrossThe garden came a youth; one hand he raisedTo shield him from the sun, his wind-tossed hairWas twined with flowers, and in his hand he boreA purple bunch of bursting grapes, his eyesWere clear as crystal, naked all was he,White as the snow on pathless mountains frore,Red were his lips as red wine-spilith that dyesA marble floor, his brow chalcedony.And he came near me, with his lips uncurledAnd kind, and caught my hand and kissed my mouth,And gave me grapes to eat, and said, ‘Sweet friend,Come I will show thee shadows of the worldAnd images of life. See from the SouthComes the pale pageant that hath never an end.’And lo! within the garden of my dreamI saw two walking on a shining plainOf golden light. The one did joyous seemAnd fair and blooming, and a sweet refrainCame from his lips; he sang of pretty maidsAnd joyous love of comely girl and boy,His eyes were bright, and ’mid the dancing bladesOf golden grass his feet did trip for joy;And in his hand he held an ivory luteWith strings of gold that were as maidens’ hair,And sang with voice as tuneful as a flute,And round his neck three chains of roses were.But he that was his comrade walked aside;He was full sad and sweet, and his large eyesWere strange with wondrous brightness, staring wideWith gazing; and he sighed with many sighsThat moved me, and his cheeks were wan and whiteLike pallid lilies, and his lips were redLike poppies, and his hands he clenched tight,And yet again unclenched, and his headWas wreathed with moon-flowers pale as lips of death.A purple robe he wore, o’erwrought in goldWith the device of a great snake, whose breathWas fiery flame: which when I did beholdI fell a-weeping, and I cried, ‘Sweet youth,Tell me why, sad and sighing, thou dost roveThese pleasent realms? I pray thee speak me soothWhat is thy name?’ He said, ‘My name is Love.’Then straight the first did turn himself to meAnd cried, ‘He lieth, for his name is Shame,But I am Love, and I was wont to beAlone in this fair garden, till he cameUnasked by night; I am true Love, I fillThe hearts of boy and girl with mutual flame.’Then sighing, said the other, ‘Have thy will,I am the love that dare not speak its name.’