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…t in worship of her body lithe, And time forgotten with his scythe, and thought, the Witenagemot. Confused in rapture: peace is culled a flower from the arboreal root, The vision dulled, the singer mute, shattered the lute, the song annulled. 41 G
…he grace of languor and the glow Of form steals sunset flaming on the snow! Darkness shall follow as love wakeneth In moonlight, and the flower, chaste love, now bloom First in the bosom, after in the tomb— Kiss me, O sister, kiss me down to death!” 60
LA PENSEE XQUISITE fairy, flower from stone begotten Sprung into sudden shape of maidenhood, Hast thou thy father’s anguish all forgotten? Hast thou a balm, who hast hardly understood? Is not thy beauty for his comfort moulded, Thy joy and purity his won reward ? Sweet blush of blood, pale blossom lightly folded, To thee did he carve his way by right of sword ? Thou who art all delight to all of us, Hast thou no special intimate caress For him whose bloody sweat stood murderous On the writhen brow, the bosom of distress ? Ay! for his anguish th…
There is a flower of native light That springs eternal on the earth. Carve us, O master-hand, aright That ecstasy of pain and mirth, A baby’s birth! That prize of fear Engrave upon the loftiest tier! Nor in the solitary woe (The silent, the unwitting strain) Forget the miracles that grow In the austerely ordered brain! Darwin and Taine, Descartes and Boyle, Inscribe thou on the Tower of Toil! Those who have striven to limn the mind, Paint, model, tune, or hymn the light, Their vision of the world refined By mastery of superior sight: Honour the…
…rn to me, love! the skies are blue, Our love can never falter; fate can never close Fleeced with the clouds that hang aloft, Hard on the flower of land and sea. Buds that may blossom into dew. Lift, O rose petals of my rose, Toward me, rest, dream on, we are here, we love. Turn to me, love! lie close and breathe There 18 no shadow above, The smooth waves of the wind! No ghost below: we are here. Kiss! Kise! The zephyr in thy locks I'll wreathe, For ever. Who would have believed, have thought The breeze entwined. of this? Outside is nothing. Let…
…ul, etc., ad nauseam—“I suppose it is ‘Harth and the Spring.’” B. follows, and suggests “ Hercules and Cacus’; C. thinks “The Birth of a Flower”; D. calls it ‘““Despair”; E. varies 4