 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
ONE MAD MOMENT.
Royal was she by her birth
On a royal stage,
Bounded by the cruel girth
Of a golden cage;
But I loved her with a royal love
While her subject, still
Dared, as with the eagle, though a dove,
Mate plebian will
With patrician might;
When with heavy eyes and wet,
One mad moment, our lips met;
Then came night.
On a royal stage,
Bounded by the cruel girth
Of a golden cage;
But I loved her with a royal love
While her subject, still
Dared, as with the eagle, though a dove,
Mate plebian will
With patrician might;
When with heavy eyes and wet,
One mad moment, our lips met;
Then came night.
Beautiful was she, with meed
Rank can never give,
Beautiful and fair indeed,
Not with fugitive
Graces, that are gauds of time or dress—
Beautiful in soul,
Beaming brighter through the darker stress,
In a self-control
More than monarch's might;
When I caught her glorious charms,
One mad moment in my arms;
Then came night.
Rank can never give,
Beautiful and fair indeed,
Not with fugitive
Graces, that are gauds of time or dress—
Beautiful in soul,
Beaming brighter through the darker stress,
In a self-control
More than monarch's might;
When I caught her glorious charms,
One mad moment in my arms;
Then came night.
Generous, and lowly too
From her lofty place
Bending, as if she would woo
With her queenly face
Our affections all unmeet for her,
Stooping lower still
Down to stay the footsteps that might err,
In their sunless will—
Wonderful and bright;
When I snatched an awful rest,
One mad moment on her breast;
Then came night.
From her lofty place
Bending, as if she would woo
With her queenly face
426
Stooping lower still
Down to stay the footsteps that might err,
In their sunless will—
Wonderful and bright;
When I snatched an awful rest,
One mad moment on her breast;
Then came night.
Pitiful was she, and sweet
As a southern sky,
When the moon and morning meet,
And the shadows fly;
But a lovely terror round her lay,
With the blasting breath
Of that fire which is imperial sway,
Whose embrace is death,
To a creature slight;
When I drank eternal bliss,
One mad moment, in a kiss;
Then came night.
As a southern sky,
When the moon and morning meet,
And the shadows fly;
But a lovely terror round her lay,
With the blasting breath
Of that fire which is imperial sway,
Whose embrace is death,
To a creature slight;
When I drank eternal bliss,
One mad moment, in a kiss;
Then came night.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |