Part 4 (1/2)

Ye charming Eyes--ye have those mystic beams, Of candles, burning in full day; the sun Awakes, yet kills not their fantastic gleams:

Ye sing the Awak'ning, they the dark oblivion; The Awak'ning of my spirit ye proclaim, O stars--no sun can ever kill your flame!

The Spiritual Dawn

When the morning white and rosy breaks, With the gnawing Ideal, upon the debauchee, By the power of a strange decree, Within the sotted beast an Angel wakes.

The mental Heaven's inaccessible blue, For wearied mortals that still dream and mourn, Expands and sinks; towards the chasm drawn.

Thus, cherished G.o.ddess, Being pure and true--

Upon the rests of foolish orgy-nights Thine image, more sublime, more pink, more clear, Before my staring eyes is ever there.

The sun has darkened all the candle lights; And thus thy spectre like the immortal sun, Is ever victorious--thou resplendent one!

Evening Harmony

The hour approacheth, when, as their stems incline, The flowers evaporate like an incense urn, And sounds and scents in the vesper breezes turn; A melancholy waltz--and a drowsiness divine.

The flowers evaporate like an incense urn, The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine.

A melancholy waltz--and a drowsiness divine, The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern.

The viol vibrates like the wailing of souls that repine; Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern, The skies like a mosque are beautiful and stern, The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine.

Sweet souls that shrink from chaos vast and etern, Essay the wreaths of their faded Past to entwine, The sunset drowns within its blood-red brine, Thy thought within me glows like an incense urn.

Overcast Sky

Meseemeth thy glance, soft enshrouded with dew, Thy mysterious eyes (are they grey, green or blue?), Alternately cruel, and tender, and shy, Reflect both the languor and calm of the sky.

Thou recall est those white days--with shadows caressed, Engendering tears from th' enraptured breast, When racked by an anguish unfathomed that weeps, The nerves, too awake, jibe the spirit that sleeps.

At times--thou art like those horizons divine, Where the suns of the nebulous seasons decline; How resplendent art thou--O pasturage vast, Illumed by the beams of a sky overcast!

O! dangerous dame--oh seductive clime!

As well, will I love both thy snow and thy rime, And shall I know how from the frosts to entice Delights that are keener than iron and ice?

Invitation to a Journey

My sister, my dear Consider how fair, Together to live it would be!