The Priest hath had his word and said his say —
A word i’ faith more honest than beguiling —
But now he turns upon his gloomy way —
Good soul, he leaves me smiling.
I may not ponder much on future wrath;
Of all those loves of mine, some six or seven,
Surely ere this have climbed that thorny path
That leads at last to Heaven.
My bold, brown beauties, eh, my delicate
And golden damsels with uncensuring eyes,
Not long once did you make your Lovelace wait
Outside of Paradise.
Much am I minded of a certain night —
A night of moon and drifting clouds that hid
The convent wall from overmuch of light
Whereby one watched forbid.
Watched, till he heard within the trembling sound
Of white, girl fingers on the rusting key
That turned her heart as well, till each unbound
Let in felicity.
Ah well, I have small fear — her eyes were blue;
Blue eyes remember though it cost them tears.
Who knows but that same hand shall lead me through
Another Gate of Fears.
In the same fashion, brave, yet most afraid,
Bold for her love yet trembling for her sin —
So, Saints were tricked before. My blue-eyed maid,
Be there to let me in.