Page:Aurora Leigh a Poem.djvu/159

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AURORA LEIGH.
Like moly? will the apple die out too?Which way is the wind to-night? south-east? due east?We talked on fast, while every common wordSeemed tangled with the thunder at one end,And ready to pull down upon our headsA terror out of sight. And yet to pauseWere surelier mortal: we tore greedily upAll silence, all the innocent breathing -points,As if, like pale conspirators in haste,We tore up papers where our signaturesImperilled us to an ugly shame or death.
I cannot tell you why it was. 'Tis plainWe had not loved nor hated: wherefore dreadTo spill gunpowder on ground safe from fire?Perhaps we had lived too closely, to divergeSo absolutely: leave two clocks, they say,Wound up to different hours, upon one shelf,And slowly, through the interior wheels of each,The blind mechanic motion sets itselfA-throb, to feel out for the mutual time.It was not so with us, indeed. While heStruck midnight, I kept striking six at dawn,While he marked judgment, I, redemption-day;And such exception to a general law,Imperious upon inert matter even,Might make us, each to either insecure,A beckoning mystery, or a troubling fear.
I mind me, when we parted at the door,
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