Far above,
There stood a wild and solitary grove
Of aged pines, all leafless but their brows,
Where a green group of tempest-stricken boughs
Was waving now and then, and to and fro,
And the pale moss was clustering below.
Then Julio saw, and bent his head away
To the cold wasted corse of Agathe,
And sigh'd; but ever he would turn again
A gaze to that green island on the main.
The bark is drifting through the surf, beside
Its rocks of gray upon the coming tide;
And lightly is it stranded on the shore
Of pure and silver shells, that lie before,
Glittering in the glory of the sun;
And Julio hath landed him, like one
That aileth of some wild and weary pest;
And Agathe is folded on his breast,--
A faded flower! with all the vernal dews
From its bright blossom shaken, and the hues
Become as colourless as twilight air--
I marvel much, that she was ever fair!
CHIMERA III
Another moon! and over the blue night
She bendeth, like a holy spirit bright,
Through stars that veil them in their wings of gold;
As on she floateth with her image cold
Enamell'd on the deep.
Pages:
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57