.. the ensuing lines are more lovely:
"'Fair as the evening air--
"'Clad in the beauty of a thousand stars,' or is it 'ten thousand
stars'?"
Hildreth turned her face up to me. Her arm went through mine. She drew
my arm close against her body and held it tight in silent response for a
quiet interval....
"You _are_ a poet ... a _real_ poet ... and," she dropped her voice,
"and, what is more, a real man, too!" there was a world of compassion in
her voice....
"--You remember Blake's evening star--that 'washed the dusk with
silver?'"
"Jesus, how beautiful!" I cried.
We were standing in front of her cottage, that darkled in the trees.
Suddenly, roused by our voices, like some sweet, low, miraculous thing,
a little bird sang a few bars of song, sweet and low, in the bushes
somewhere, and stopped....
"Hildreth, don't let's go to bed yet." I caught her arm in my hands,
"it's too beautiful ... to go to bed."
I was trembling all over....
"Yes, boy?"
"Let's--let's take a walk."
* * * * *
We went through the little sleeping community. She clung to my arm
lightly....
"You're the first woman I haven't been frightened of, rather, have felt
at home with."
"You, who have been a tramp, a worker all over the country ... in big
cities ... do you mean to tell me that?--"
"Yes ... yes ...
Pages:
535
536
537
538
539
540
541
542
543
544
545
546
547
548
549
550
551
552
553
554
555
556
557
558
559