(For Alice Brown)
THERE is a city burning in a dream
All women know and search for secretly;
The swift rose-hearted flame's eternal stream
Laps round the changeless towers eternally.
It stands far off above a circling mist. . . .
Have ye not seen our eyes that seek its light,
Felt the quick sigh between our lips late-kissed,
Felt our loosed arms yearn toward it in the night?
Gold Helen found it not, nor white Deirdré:
There is no woman, howso loved, can tell
Of those white changeless dream-towers seen by day,
Of that flame calyxed, perfect citadel:
We shall not ever know its perfect joy,
Yet we shall seek it till our years are gone . . .
Eternal Love whose fires shall not destroy
Eternal Beauty that it beats upon.
