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…upon the summit. Mother Of ages, daughter of ages, cast The fatal die, and turn to death! Let evolution turn, involving As when the gray sun sickeneth— Ghostly September! so dissolving Into the pale eternal breath. When all is done, shall this be said. When all is said, shall this be done, The aeon exhaust and finished, And slumber steal upon the sun, My dear, when you and I are dead. 27
…rrow and dust That aye avenge the artist’s victory won, That cover up his monuments of fame, That twist his sight, once steadfast on the sun To the fear folded in the robes of shame:— Lest he, to all the world plain victor, find Himself mere failure to his own white mind. 45
THE TOWER OF TOIL (LA TOUR DE TRAVAIL) HE old sun rolls; the old earth spins; Incessant labour bends the stars. Hath not enough of woes and sins — Passed? Who shall efface their senseless scars? One makes, one mars. The aeons foil All purpose; rise, O Tower of Toil. Rise in thy radiance to proclaim The agony of the earth alive! Stand by the sea, a marble flame, A lighthouse wedded to an hive! Still upward strive! O tower, arise An endless spiral to the skies! Stand on the weather-beaten coast A flaming angel in the noon; A silver, fascinated gh…
ICARE' CARUS cries: “My love is robed in light And splendour of the summits of the sun. Wing, O my soul, thy plumed caparison Through ninety million miles of space beyond sight! Utmost imagination’s eagle-flight Out-soar!” But he, by his own force undone, His peacock pinions molten one by one, Falls to black earth through the impassive night. Lo! from uprushing earth arises love Ardent and secret, scented with the night, Amorous, ready. Sing the awakening bliss That catches him, from the inane above Hurled—nay, drawn down! What uttermost deligh…
… FEMME (MUSEE DU LUXEMBOURG) T shall be said, when all is done, The last line written, the last mountain Climbed, the last look upon the sun Taken, the last star in the fountain Shattered, that you and I were one. What shall they say, who come apace After us, heedless, gallant? Seeing Our statues, hearing of our race Heroic tales, half-doubted, being So far beyond a rime to trace. What shall they say? For secret we Have held our love, and holy. Splendour Of light, and music of the sea And eyes and heart serene and tender, With kisses mingled ut…