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34
An Invocation.
Wilt thou sing again, serene and solemn spirit,
Spirit of white sea-surf and clear mountain-snow,
Of the first high love pure souls inherit,
Of the folded roses ere they blow?
In blue moonlight once more wilt thou bathe me?
Steep me in green seas?
With the kisses print the tresses swathe me
Of the breeze?
Spirit of white sea-surf and clear mountain-snow,
Of the first high love pure souls inherit,
Of the folded roses ere they blow?
In blue moonlight once more wilt thou bathe me?
Steep me in green seas?
With the kisses print the tresses swathe me
Of the breeze?
Whither now are fled the golden bands, the girdles,
Whither now the dove-like flutter of white robes,
Budding bosoms white as foam that curdles,
Waxen eyelids dropping o'er grey globes,
Livid with love's light of paly violets,
Blue eyes showing through,
Liquid lakes in mountains, purple islets
In the blue?
Whither now the dove-like flutter of white robes,
Budding bosoms white as foam that curdles,
Waxen eyelids dropping o'er grey globes,
Livid with love's light of paly violets,
Blue eyes showing through,
Liquid lakes in mountains, purple islets
In the blue?
Nov. 1st, 1885.
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