POEMS OF JAMES RYDER RANDALL
Madonna! fold
Her heart of gold
In thy dear arms, when it is cold;
Madonna! sing
This bird of Spring
To sleep beneath thy velvet wing!
Athwart my brain
A shadowy rain
Sobs forth this desolate refrain:
Thy star is sped,
Thy sunshine fled,
Thy dream is bosomed with the dead!
Ay! dim—dim—dim—
My senses swim
Down by the lordly river’s brim;
All pagan-eyed,
I thrust my pride
Out on the mad and stalwart tide.
And will it roll
To some fair goal,
Quaffing elixirs of the soul—
Or witheringly
Grope out to sea
And drift—but will it drift to thee?
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