I wayed by star and planet shine

   Towards the dear one’s home

At Kingsbere, there to make her mine

   When the next sun upclomb.

I edged the ancient hill and wood

   Beside the Ikling Way,

Nigh where the Pagan temple stood

   In the world’s earlier day.

And as I quick and quicker walked

   On gravel and on green,

I sang to sky, and tree, or talked

   Of her I called my queen.

—“O faultless is her dainty form,

   And luminous her mind;

She is the God-created norm

   Of perfect womankind!”

A shape whereon one star-blink gleamed

   Glode softly by my side,

A woman’s; and her motion seemed

   The motion of my bride.

And yet methought she’d drawn erstwhile

   Adown the ancient leaze,

Where once were pile and peristyle

   For men’s idolatries.

—“O maiden lithe and lone, what may

   Thy name and lineage be,

Who so resemblest by this ray

   My darling?—Art thou she?”

The Shape: “Thy bride remains within

   Her father’s grange and grove.”

—“Thou speakest rightly,” I broke in,

   “Thou art not she I love.”

—“Nay: though thy bride remains inside

   Her father’s walls,” said she,

“The one most dear is with thee here,

   For thou dost love but me.”

Then I: “But she, my only choice,

   Is now at Kingsbere Grove?”

Again her soft mysterious voice:

   “I am thy only Love.”

Thus still she vouched, and still I said,

   “O sprite, that cannot be!” . . .

It was as if my bosom bled,

   So much she troubled me.

The sprite resumed: “Thou hast transferred

   To her dull form awhile

My beauty, fame, and deed, and word,

   My gestures and my smile.

“O fatuous man, this truth infer,

   Brides are not what they seem;

Thou lovest what thou dreamest her;

   I am thy very dream!”

—“O then,” I answered miserably,

   Speaking as scarce I knew,

“My loved one, I must wed with thee

   If what thou say’st be true!”

She, proudly, thinning in the gloom:

   “Though, since troth-plight began,

I’ve ever stood as bride to groom,

   I wed no mortal man!”

Thereat she vanished by the Cross

   That, entering Kingsbere town,

The two long lanes form, near the fosse

   Below the faneless Down.

—When I arrived and met my bride,

   Her look was pinched and thin,

As if her soul had shrunk and died,

   And left a waste within.