Then comes the statelier Eden back to men：
Then reign the world's great bridals， chaste and calm：
Then springs the crowning race of humankind.
May these things be！'
Sighing she spoke 'I fear They will not.'
'Dear， but let us type them now In our own lives， and this proud watchword rest Of equal； seeing either sex alone Is half itself， and in true marriage lies Nor equal， nor unequal： each fulfils Defect in each， and always thought in thought， Purpose in purpose， will in will， they grow， The single pure and perfect animal， The two-celled heart beating， with one full stroke， Life.'
And again sighing she spoke： 'A dream That once was mind！ what woman taught you this？'
'Alone，' I said， 'from earlier than I know， Immersed in rich foreshadowings of the world， I loved the woman： he， that doth not， lives A drowning life， besotted in sweet self， Or pines in sad experience worse than death， Or keeps his winged affections clipt with crime：
Yet was there one through whom I loved her， one Not learn鑔， save in gracious household ways， Not perfect， nay， but full of tender wants， No Angel， but a dearer being， all dipt In Angel instincts， breathing Paradise， Interpreter between the Gods and men， Who looked all native to her place， and yet On tiptoe seemed to touch upon a sphere Too gross to tread， and all male minds perforce Swayed to her from their orbits as they moved， And girdled her with music. Happy he With such a mother！ faith in womankind Beats with his blood， and trust in all things high Comes easy to him， and though he trip and fall He shall not blind his soul with clay.'
'But I，'
Said Ida， tremulously， 'so all unlike--
It seems you love to cheat yourself with words：
This mother is your model. I have heard of your strange doubts： they well might be： I seem A mockery to my own self. Never， Prince；You cannot love me.'
'Nay but thee' I said 'From yearlong poring on thy pictured eyes， Ere seen I loved， and loved thee seen， and saw Thee woman through the crust of iron moods That masked thee from men's reverence up， and forced Sweet love on pranks of saucy boyhood： now， Given back to life， to life indeed， through thee， Indeed I love： the new day comes， the light Dearer for night， as dearer thou for faults Lived over： lift thine eyes； my doubts are dead， My haunting sense of hollow shows： the change， This truthful change in thee has killed it. Dear， Look up， and let thy nature strike on mine， Like yonder morning on the blind half-world；Approach and fear not； breathe upon my brows；In that fine air I tremble， all the past Melts mist-like into this bright hour， and this Is morn to more， and all the rich to-come Reels， as the golden Autumn woodland reels Athwart the smoke of burning weeds. Forgive me， I waste my heart in signs： let be. My bride， My wife， my life. O we will walk this world， Yoked in all exercise of noble end， And so through those dark gates across the wild That no man knows. Indeed I love thee： come， Yield thyself up： my hopes and thine are one：
Accomplish thou my manhood and thyself；
Lay thy sweet hands in mine and trust to me.'
CONCLUSION
So closed our tale， of which I give you all The random scheme as wildly as it rose：
The words are mostly mine； for when we ceased There came a minute's pause， and Walter said， 'I wish she had not yielded！' then to me， 'What， if you drest it up poetically？'
So prayed the men， the women： I gave assent：
Yet how to bind the scattered scheme of seven Together in one sheaf？ What style could suit？
The men required that I should give throughout The sort of mock-heroic gigantesque， With which we bantered little Lilia first：
The women--and perhaps they felt their power， For something in the ballads which they sang， Or in their silent influence as they sat， Had ever seemed to wrestle with burlesque， And drove us， last， to quite a solemn close--They hated banter， wished for something real， A gallant fight， a noble princess--why Not make her true-heroic--true-sublime？
Or all， they said， as earnest as the close？
Which yet with such a framework scarce could be.
Then rose a little feud betwixt the two， Betwixt the mockers and the realists：
