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124

VIII.
DIVINELY “VICTRIX”

I dreamed my love was aged and infirm,
An autumn rose with desolated leaves;
But now my waking truer sight perceives
Its beauty is but as a crimson germ.
The winds that shook my blossom for a term
Depart,—and, having cleansed away the brown
And faded petals, leave my flower's crown
Divinely “victrix” over winter's worm.
Over the past I run a rapid eye—
Over the tuneful work that I have done,—
And, where I thought love's silver waves were dry,
Behold a golden streamlet just begun;
See, for a perished moon, a mounting sun;
For grey despondent clouds, a fervid sky!
1871.