 | Poems by William Wetmore Story |  |
264
ARTEMIS.
A slender shape of graceful mien,
With spirit tenderly serene
O'er which had never passed a storm;
In feeling pure, in impulse warm:
A face informed with serious light,
Too peaceful to be gayly bright,
Too young to know of pain and care,
Too slight their wearing weight to bear,
She passed before my dreaming eyes
When in the paling western skies
The young moon trembling strove to hide
Within the clear sky's luminous tide.
With spirit tenderly serene
O'er which had never passed a storm;
In feeling pure, in impulse warm:
A face informed with serious light,
Too peaceful to be gayly bright,
Too young to know of pain and care,
Too slight their wearing weight to bear,
She passed before my dreaming eyes
When in the paling western skies
The young moon trembling strove to hide
Within the clear sky's luminous tide.
Again to full expansion grown
We met when maidenhood had flown—
A noble sweetness lit her eyes,
Her look was calm as destiny's.
Pure, serious, grandly self-possessed,
Her passions rounded into rest,
She stood—and far above I saw
The full-orbed moon without a flaw
Walk through the chambers of the night
And comfort all the world with light.
Again, when youth and health had gone
I saw her pallid cheek and wan.
Life scarcely seemed to linger there
So visionary was her air,
And sweeter than all words can tell
The smile that ever said, “Farewell!”
Within her saintliness of mood
All joy, all passion was subdued,
And as she passed, far overhead
The morning twilight 'gan to spread,
While thin and white before the day
The waning moon paled fast away.
We met when maidenhood had flown—
A noble sweetness lit her eyes,
Her look was calm as destiny's.
Pure, serious, grandly self-possessed,
Her passions rounded into rest,
She stood—and far above I saw
The full-orbed moon without a flaw
Walk through the chambers of the night
And comfort all the world with light.
265
I saw her pallid cheek and wan.
Life scarcely seemed to linger there
So visionary was her air,
And sweeter than all words can tell
The smile that ever said, “Farewell!”
Within her saintliness of mood
All joy, all passion was subdued,
And as she passed, far overhead
The morning twilight 'gan to spread,
While thin and white before the day
The waning moon paled fast away.
| Poems by William Wetmore Story | |