 | Fantasy and Passion |  |
180
TO F. S. S.
“C'était un démon se tordant sous un ange,
Un enfer sous un ciel.”
Théophile Gautier.
Un enfer sous un ciel.”
Théophile Gautier.
Seeing thy face, with all thy fluctuant hair
Falling in dull-gold opulence from thy brow,
Watching thy light-blue eyes, now fired or now.
Laughterful, or now dim as with despair,
I wonder, friend, that it should be God's care
To have made at all, what matter when or how,
A being so sadly, desolately rare,
So beautifully incomplete as thou!
Falling in dull-gold opulence from thy brow,
Watching thy light-blue eyes, now fired or now.
Laughterful, or now dim as with despair,
I wonder, friend, that it should be God's care
To have made at all, what matter when or how,
A being so sadly, desolately rare,
So beautifully incomplete as thou!
O rank black pool, with one star's imaged form!
O sweet rich-hearted rose, with rot at core!
O summer heaven, half purpled by stern storm!
O lily, with one white leaf dipt in gore!
O angel-shape, whereover curves and clings
The awful imminence of a devil's wings!
O sweet rich-hearted rose, with rot at core!
O summer heaven, half purpled by stern storm!
O lily, with one white leaf dipt in gore!
O angel-shape, whereover curves and clings
The awful imminence of a devil's wings!
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