154
a love poem.
XII.
To clasp thee closer, close to press
The glory of thy hair,
To watch thy blushing loveliness
When I proclaim thee fair. . . .
Alas! how vain to long, to yearn!
How impotent, Desire!
An angel waves. a sword which girds
My Paradise with fire!
The glory of thy hair,
To watch thy blushing loveliness
When I proclaim thee fair. . . .
Alas! how vain to long, to yearn!
How impotent, Desire!
An angel waves. a sword which girds
My Paradise with fire!
XIII.
And—Death the angel, Life the sword—
Thy Death, my Life, must be
Both vanquished, ere I claim, Adored!
My Eden lost, in thee!
Thy Death, my Life, must be
Both vanquished, ere I claim, Adored!
My Eden lost, in thee!
