Poems : medley and Palestina | ||
Romances.
I would I were mighty, victorious,
A monarch of steel and of gold;
I would I were one of the glorious
Divinities hallowed of old,
A god of Olympian fashion
Who mingled with women and men,
A deity human in passion,
Transhuman in strength and in ken.
A monarch of steel and of gold;
I would I were one of the glorious
Divinities hallowed of old,
A god of Olympian fashion
Who mingled with women and men,
A deity human in passion,
Transhuman in strength and in ken.
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For then I could render the pleasure
I win from the sight of your face;
For then I could utter my treasure
Of homage and thanks for your grace;
I could dower, illumine and gladden,
Could rescue from peril and tears,
And my speech could vibrate and madden
With eloquence worthy your ears.
I win from the sight of your face;
For then I could utter my treasure
Of homage and thanks for your grace;
I could dower, illumine and gladden,
Could rescue from peril and tears,
And my speech could vibrate and madden
With eloquence worthy your ears.
You meet me; your greeting is kindly;
One minute I marvel and gaze,
Idolatrous, worshipping blindly,
Yet mindful of decorous ways.
You pass; and the glory is ended,
Though lustre and taper may glow;
The goddess who made the night splendid
Has vanished; and darkly I go.
One minute I marvel and gaze,
Idolatrous, worshipping blindly,
Yet mindful of decorous ways.
You pass; and the glory is ended,
Though lustre and taper may glow;
The goddess who made the night splendid
Has vanished; and darkly I go.
You know not how quickly you mounted
The throne in the depths of my eyes;
You care not how meekly I counted
Those moments for pearls of the skies;
Or, knowing it, all is forgotten
The instant I fade from your sight,
Consigned to the visions begotten
Of chaos and slumber and night.
The throne in the depths of my eyes;
You care not how meekly I counted
Those moments for pearls of the skies;
Or, knowing it, all is forgotten
The instant I fade from your sight,
Consigned to the visions begotten
Of chaos and slumber and night.
But I, I remember your glances,
Your chariest gesture and word,
And out of them fashion romances
Man never yet uttered nor heard,
Romances too brilliant for mortals,
Too glad for a planet of dole,
Romances that open the portals
Of Eden and welcome my soul.
Your chariest gesture and word,
And out of them fashion romances
Man never yet uttered nor heard,
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Too glad for a planet of dole,
Romances that open the portals
Of Eden and welcome my soul.
Poems : medley and Palestina | ||