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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
125
ERMENGARDE
Queen of the Courts of Love, she sleeps; one arm
Pillowing her raven hair, as Dawn might Night,
Or Day kiss Dusk; or Darkness, starry warm,
Be gathered of her sister, rosy Light.
Pillowing her raven hair, as Dawn might Night,
Or Day kiss Dusk; or Darkness, starry warm,
Be gathered of her sister, rosy Light.
Pale from the purple of the damask cloth
One hand hangs, as a lily-bloom might, lone
Above a bed of poppies; or a moth
Might softly hover by a rose full-blown.
One hand hangs, as a lily-bloom might, lone
Above a bed of poppies; or a moth
Might softly hover by a rose full-blown.
Heraldic, rich, the costly coverings
Sweep, fall'n in folds, pushed partly from her breast;
As through storm-broken clouds the full moon springs,
From these one orb of her pure bosom pressed.
Sweep, fall'n in folds, pushed partly from her breast;
As through storm-broken clouds the full moon springs,
From these one orb of her pure bosom pressed.
She sleeps: and where the moteless moonbeams sink
Through blazoned panes—an immaterial snow—
In wide, white jets, the lion-fur seems to drink
With tawny jaws their wasted, winey glow.
126
In wide, white jets, the lion-fur seems to drink
With tawny jaws their wasted, winey glow.
Light-lidded sleep and holy dreams are hers,
Untouched of feverish sorrow or of care,
Soft as the wind whose fragrant breathing stirs
The moonbeam-tangled tresses of her hair.
Untouched of feverish sorrow or of care,
Soft as the wind whose fragrant breathing stirs
The moonbeam-tangled tresses of her hair.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |