Two Met

By George Sterling

You came, and Mystery murmured in the wood;
    You spoke; a dryad ventured from her tree.
    Or was it that my fancy could but see
The sweet incredible and found my mood
Demanding the impossible for food?
    I know that both were softly granted me,
    When, like a goddess on her devotee,
You smiled, and joy was made the only good.

For us had Silence made the dusk a shrine;
For us had needles fallen from the pine;
    For us had come that wind from out the South,
        Wafting your loosened hair across my face,
        As I, oblivious of time and space,
Turned to your fragrant and consenting mouth.

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