Mundi et Cordis De Rebus Sempiternis et Temporariis: Carmina. Poems and Sonnets. By Thomas Wade |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
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| VII. |
| VIII. |
| IX. |
| X. |
| XI. |
| XII. |
| XIII. |
| XIV. |
| XV. |
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| XVII. |
| XVIII. |
| XIX. |
| XX. |
| XXI. |
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| XXIII. |
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| XXV. |
| XXVI. |
| XXVII. |
| XXVIII. |
| XXIX. |
| XXX. |
| XXXI. |
| XXXII. |
| XXXIII. |
| XXXIV. |
| XXXV. |
| XXXVI. |
| XXXVII. |
| XXXVIII. |
| XXXIX. |
| XL. |
| XLI. |
| XLII. |
| XLIII. |
| XLIV. |
| XLV. |
| XLVI. |
| XLVII. |
| XLVIII. |
| XLIX. |
| L. |
| LI. |
| LII. |
| LIII. |
| LIV. |
| LV. |
| LVI. |
| LVII. |
| LVIII. |
| LIX. |
| LX. |
| LXI. |
| LXII. | LXII.
THE RIVALRY. |
| LXIII. |
| LXIV. |
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 | Mundi et Cordis |  |
255
LXII. THE RIVALRY.
Ah! Sweet Creatrix of that World of SoundThat vibrates on my ever-listening ear,
And all my sense pervades with such profound
And self-infusing power, that every vein
And every nerve within my quivering frame
Seem in true chorus to repeat again,
Again, and yet again, the gushings clear,
Flowing and pulsing, of its harmony!
The heavenly might of thine enchanted fingers
Hath nowhere its true like, or rivalry;
Save on those lips of thine, when dewy flame,
Ascending from the heart, upon them lingers;
And, drawn into my soul with thy warm breath,
Melts all the heart of life to liquid death!
| Mundi et Cordis | |