 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
THE CONQUEROR.
I am the spirit of the Silent Deep,
And at my quickening tread,
The ghostly sheeted dead
Start from the stillness of their centuried sleep,
Where the gray aspens ever watch and weep,
And hands to Heaven outspread.
And at my quickening tread,
The ghostly sheeted dead
Start from the stillness of their centuried sleep,
Where the gray aspens ever watch and weep,
And hands to Heaven outspread.
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The prophet sees me in his castled height,
Who breaks through earthly bars,
In commune with the stars,
And from the rapture of the solemn sight,
In awful unimaginable light,
Forgets his human scars.
Who breaks through earthly bars,
In commune with the stars,
And from the rapture of the solemn sight,
In awful unimaginable light,
Forgets his human scars.
The poet hears me from his cloistered nock,
In more than mortal dreams,
Through which immortal gleams
The passion of some new great gospel book,
Vast with its loving universal look
Beyond these muddy streams.
In more than mortal dreams,
Through which immortal gleams
The passion of some new great gospel book,
Vast with its loving universal look
Beyond these muddy streams.
The thinker tracks my footsteps in the maze
Of systems, that would tie
Man to a splendid lie,
Till from the trouble of their travailing haze,
They burst in blossom, and a glorious blaze
That never more may die.
Of systems, that would tie
Man to a splendid lie,
Till from the trouble of their travailing haze,
They burst in blossom, and a glorious blaze
That never more may die.
The lover knows me, as his throbbing heart
Beats out the blessèd chime,
The same in every clime,
Of which all nature is a living part,
That bids each waking soul arise, and start
Forth on a fairer time.
Beats out the blessèd chime,
The same in every clime,
Of which all nature is a living part,
That bids each waking soul arise, and start
Forth on a fairer time.
The maiden feels my presence, when she turns
The tumult of her eyes,
Which for caresses cries,
The flame that kindled once for ever burns,
And finds this world too small, and wildly yearns
For other earth and skies.
The tumult of her eyes,
Which for caresses cries,
The flame that kindled once for ever burns,
And finds this world too small, and wildly yearns
For other earth and skies.
The baby owns the impress of my hand,
Your beauteous God-sent boy,
Half angel and half toy,
Who gazes out on glittering sea and land,
So strange and new, as if at his command,
In wonder and in joy.
Your beauteous God-sent boy,
Half angel and half toy,
Who gazes out on glittering sea and land,
So strange and new, as if at his command,
In wonder and in joy.
The cowslip answers to my secret call
That stirs each golden glove,
And bids the drowsy dove
Rejoice, and laughs at the dividing wall,
Which else would darken between heaven and all;
For I am conquering Love.
That stirs each golden glove,
And bids the drowsy dove
Rejoice, and laughs at the dividing wall,
Which else would darken between heaven and all;
For I am conquering Love.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |