CHTHONIA.

Forth of the fine-spun folds of veils that hide

My virgin chamber toward the full-faced sun

I set my foot not moved of mine own will,

Unmaidenlike, nor with unprompted speed

[Pg 21]

Turn eyes too broad or doglike unabashed

On reverend heads of men and thence on thine,

Mother, now covered from the light and bowed

As hers who mourns her brethren; but what grief

Bends thy blind head thus earthward, holds thus mute,

370

I know not till thy will be to lift up

Toward mine thy sorrow-muffled eyes and speak;

And till thy will be would I know this not.

PRAXITHEA.

Old men and childless, or if sons ye have seen

And daughters, elder-born were these than mine,

Look on this child, how young of years, how sweet,

How scant of time and green of age her life

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