Part 22 (2/2)

II.

Have I not wept to know myself so weak That I can feel, not see, the dimpled cheek, The lips, the eyes, the sunbeams that enfold Her locks of gold?

III.

Have I not sworn that I will not be wed, But mate my soul with hers on my death-bed?

The soul can see,--for souls are seraphim,-- When eyes are dim.

IV.

Oh, hus.h.!.+ she comes. I know her. She is nigh.

She brings me death, true heart, and I will die.

She brings me love, for love and life are one Beyond the sun.

V.

This is the measure, this, of all my joys: Life is a curse and Death's a counterpoise.

Give me thy hand, O sweet one, let me know Which path I go.

VI.

I cannot die if thou be not a-near, To lead me on to Life's appointed sphere.

O spirit-face, O angel, with thy breath Kiss me to death!

MIRAGE.

I.

'Tis a legend of a lover, 'Tis a ballad to be sung, In the gloaming,--under cover,-- By a minstrel who is young; By a singer who has pa.s.sion, and who sways us with his tongue.

II.

I, who know it, think upon it, Not unhappy, tho' in tears, And I gather in a sonnet All the glory of the years; And I kiss and clasp a shadow when the substance disappears.

III.

Ah! I see her as she faced me, In the sinless summer days, When her little hands embraced me, And I saddened at her gaze, Thinking, Sweet One! will she love me when we walk in other ways?

<script>