XXXIII

REACTION

Give me a chamber paved with emerald And hung with arras green as evening skies, Broidered with halcyons, moons, and heavily thralled White lilies, cold rare comfort for the eyes. Of triumph built was radiant yesterday:  Like an imperial eagle to the sun My soul bare up her dreams the glorious way Through flagrant ordeals august, and won To burning eyries, till beneath her wing Rankled the shaft. Her Archer was abroad; And hooded with strange darkness, shuddering Down pain's dull spiral, sank she on the sod. Close round, green dusk of dews! No more we dare The blue inviolate castles of the air.

 

 

 

 

XXXIV

THE IDEALIST

For such an one let lovers cry, Alas! Since passion's leaguer shall break through in vain To that cold centre of bright adamas.—  Storm through her being, rapturous spears of pain! Ye shall not wound that queen of gracious guile, The soul that with immortal trance keeps troth: For Helen is in Egypt all the while, Learning great magic from the Wife of Thoth. Throned white and high on red-rose porphyry, And coifed with golden wings, she lifts her eyes O'er Nile's green lavers where most sacredly The Pattern of the myriad Lotos lies, Unto those clear horizons jasper-pale Her heavenly Brethren ride in silver mail.

 

 

 

 

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