University of Virginia Library


8

SONNET VI
THE PURPLE WINGS

If on my shoulders never shall be seen
The puissant purple fluttering of the wings
Wherewith the poet beateth as he sings
The high celestial atmospheric sheen,
If I may never say the thing I mean,
And only half an ear my audience brings,
And misdirected are my ambitious slings,
And no Goliath blazing eyes between
My stone hits full—at least she lets me die,
Queen Beauty, as my gentle brother died
Who lies on the Italian mountain-side,
In one long passion of an outpoured sigh
That seemeth tremblingly to wonder why
The kiss of satisfaction is denied.
1870.