 | 1. |
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
| 2. |
 | Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge |  |
I
My lips shall kiss thy brows!
Thy blood—now in my heart perchance the pulse of it!—
Shall fall upon my face from all the thorns.
Thy blood—now in my heart perchance the pulse of it!—
Shall fall upon my face from all the thorns.
Of their dead lives who killed and felt the scorn,
Thy pity,—all its justice, vista, faith,
How utterly dim, unguessed, or briefly seen
As tho' a starred night thro' a wall's interstice glimpsed or sea-view caught between the crouching hills,—
When once, in some long-hence, prepared arrival,
Realized and known by me, in me comprised,
Shall round the soul's slow spheres and lift a larger horizon!
Then all the strewing of light in all thy ways,
(Now even I glimpse thee by the self-same light)
Shall flow between our eyes incessantly;
Then as my lips gleam crimson from thy brows
And feel thy lips—the comrades kiss at last!
Thy pity,—all its justice, vista, faith,
How utterly dim, unguessed, or briefly seen
As tho' a starred night thro' a wall's interstice glimpsed or sea-view caught between the crouching hills,—
When once, in some long-hence, prepared arrival,
Realized and known by me, in me comprised,
Shall round the soul's slow spheres and lift a larger horizon!
Then all the strewing of light in all thy ways,
(Now even I glimpse thee by the self-same light)
Shall flow between our eyes incessantly;
Then as my lips gleam crimson from thy brows
And feel thy lips—the comrades kiss at last!
| Poems and dramas of George Cabot Lodge | |