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LOST.
Who from thy forehead gathered ruthlessly
The luminous lilies of white Purity,
And planted there instead
Shame's heavy blossoms, broad and scarlet-red,
Perdita!
The luminous lilies of white Purity,
And planted there instead
Shame's heavy blossoms, broad and scarlet-red,
Perdita!
Whom thou wouldst die to please;
Whom thou hast followed on thy bleeding knees
Through wrong and woe and strife,
To kiss his footsteps in the dust of life,—
Pleading with tears the while
For the great blessing of a word or smile,
As starvelings plead for bread,
To those, who, taunting, fling a stone instead,—
Perdita!
Whom thou hast followed on thy bleeding knees
Through wrong and woe and strife,
To kiss his footsteps in the dust of life,—
Pleading with tears the while
For the great blessing of a word or smile,
As starvelings plead for bread,
To those, who, taunting, fling a stone instead,—
Perdita!
Lift not thy pleading eyes
To the calm scorn of the unpitying skies,—
Hide thy dishonored brow,—
Sweet Mercy's smile is not for such as thou,
Perdita!
To the calm scorn of the unpitying skies,—
Hide thy dishonored brow,—
Sweet Mercy's smile is not for such as thou,
Perdita!
