 | East and west : the discovery of America and other poems |  |
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IN THE AURA.
In the marble crypts of the clouds I would lay me to sleep.Enwrapped in their foaming shrouds I would laugh, I would weep
At the floating dance of my soul like a buoyant feather,
Where far above in the fire-blue dome of the weather
Uptossed on the ample pools of its deep-dyed spaces
Would eddy the maple leaves of the passionate faces
Who kissed their hearts away in a burnt-out Past;
And ashen motives of deeds in a stare aghast
Upthrown to this world of shades from their astral tombs.
Like wreaths of a curling smoke shall their faint perfumes
Expand to the rarified hem of the atmosphere,
And play with its crystal balls; or in anguish peer
O'er the pale impalpable rim of their magnet globe,
As they cling with the clutch of fate like a thin silk robe
Round the maddening curve of its limb. And an angel star,
Shot down through the film from nebulous realms afar
To the central court of the sun, with a long lost fire,
Would swoon in the white hot tides of the mad desire
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From my cold calm bier I would snatch at his robe, and pray:
“Dear ray of the cosmic grace like a pale Christ dying!
O mated dove of my soul in thy terror flying!
Come rest in the down of my nest till the world burns up,
And drink the draft of sin in her whirling cup
Till the soulless dance dies out for the lack of breath;—
For thought, and love, and pity shall outlive Death!”
| East and west : the discovery of America and other poems | |