FullReads

VI

I have spoken of the light that comes from the heart of man, and sheds brightness on all around him… I long to talk with thee of the time when in my heart too that light burned bright with blessing… Listen… and I will fancy thee sitting before me, gazing up at me with those eyes–so fond yet stern almost in their intentness. O eyes, never to be forgotten! On whom are they fastened now? Who folds in his heart thy glance–that glance that seems to flow from depths unknown even as mysterious springs–like ye, both clear and dark–that gush out into some narrow, deep ravine under the frowning cliffs…. Listen.

VII

It was at the end of March before Annunciation, soon after I had seen thee for the first time and–not yet dreaming of what thou wouldst be to me–already, silently, secretly, I bore thee in my heart. I chanced to cross one of the great rivers of Russia. The ice had not yet broken up, but looked swollen and dark; it was the fourth day of thaw. The snow was melting everywhere–steadily but slowly; there was the running of water on all sides; a noiseless wind strayed in the soft air. Earth and sky alike were steeped in one unvarying milky hue; there was not fog nor was there light; not one object stood out clear in the general whiteness, everything looked both close and indistinct. I left my cart far behind and walked swiftly over the ice of the river, and except the muffled thud of my own steps heard not a sound. I went on enfolded on all sides by the first breath, the first thrill, of early spring… and gradually gaining force with every step, with every movement forwards, a glad tremour sprang up and grew, all uncomprehended within me… it drew me on, it hastened me, and so strong was the flood of gladness within me, that I stood still at last and with questioning eyes looked round me, as I would seek some outer cause of my mood of rapture…. All was soft, white, slumbering, but I lifted my eyes; high in the heavens floated a flock of birds flying back to us…. ‘Spring! welcome spring!’ I shouted aloud: ‘welcome, life and love and happiness!’ And at that instance, with sweetly troubling shock, suddenly like a cactus flower thy image blossomed aflame within me, blossomed and grew, bewilderingly fair and radiant, and I knew that I love thee, thee only–that I am all filled full of thee….

VIII

I think of thee… and many other memories, other pictures float before me with thee everywhere, at every turn of my life I meet thee. Now an old Russian garden rises up before me on the slope of a hillside, lighted up by the last rays of the summer sun. Behind the silver poplars peeps out the wooden roof of the manor-house with a thin curl of reddish smoke above the white chimney, and in the fence a little gate stands just ajar, as though some one had drawn it to with faltering hand; and I stand and wait and gaze at that gate and the sand of the garden path–wonder and rapture in my heart. All that I behold seems new and different; over all a breath of some glad, brooding mystery, and already I catch the swift rustle of steps, and I stand intent and alert as a bird with wings folded ready to take flight anew, and my heart burns and shudders in joyous dread before the approaching, the alighting rapture….

IX

Then I see an ancient cathedral in a beautiful, far-off land. In rows kneel the close packed people; a breath of prayerful chill, of something grave and melancholy is wafted from the high, bare roof, from the huge, branching columns. Thou standest at my side, mute, apart, as though knowing me not. Each fold of thy dark cloak hangs motionless as carved in stone. Motionless, too, lie the bright patches cast by the stained windows at thy feet on the worn flags. And lo, violently thrilling the incense-clouded air, thrilling us within, rolled out the mighty flood of the organ’s notes… and I saw thee paler, rigid–thy glance caressed me, glided higher and rose heavenwards–while to me it seemed none but an immortal soul could look so, with such eyes…