She yields: my Lady in her noblest mood <br />Has yielded: she, my golden-crownèd rose! <br />The bride of every sense! more sweet than those <br />Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood. <br />O visage of still music in the sky <br />Soft moon! I feel thy song, my fairest friend! <br />True harmony within can apprehend <br />Dumb harmony without. And hark! 'tis nigh! <br />Belief has struck the note of sound: a gleam <br />Of living silver shows me where she shook <br />Her long white fingers down the shadowy brook, <br />That sings her song, half waking, half in dream. <br />What two come here to mar this heavenly tune ? <br />A man is one: the woman bears my name, <br />And honour. Their hands touch! Am I still tame? <br />God, what a dancing spectre seems the moon!<br /><br />George Meredith<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/modern-love-xxxix-she-yields/
