Portrait For A Background Of Flat Gold

JOHN PEALE BISHOP

IT may well have been that my thought was heady Or that lone drinking had spoiled my blood, But I saw a clouds taring lady Ride into the light which edged a wood.

By the slim pressure of white knees She swayed the pride of a unicorn To swerve between the sapling trees And score the leaves with his silver horn.

Picked up by the wind, her hair was lost In a flutter of light against the sun; Riding, she caught in a scarf or tossed Before her, a smooth black-polished stone.

Suddenly, she stopped and gazed As if her eyelids twitched with soot; Spurred with her heels; galloped and grazed My trembling hand with her warm foot.

"Where has he gone"—she leaned her head— "That had so sweet a weight of limb, Whose hair was red as the lion's is red? It is long since I have dreamed of him.

"Already before I had upwound The loosened ends of my girl's hair, Or my girl's breasts had come to the round, He took me in his dismaying stare.

"Although I can no longer count What lips of lovers I have kissed, I ride for him still; mount and dismount; But make me a stirrup of your wrist—

"Tonight, your shoulder shall be laid In a white longing against my own Till my disquiet is allayed; And you sleep; and I mount and ride on."