 | Forest Songs and Other Poems |  |
97
MAGNOLIAS.
Thou pale sad moon, slow-waning, night by night,From thy fair throne, when nightly thou didst busk
Thy swelling bosom in more silvery light,
I breathed on Como's shore the odorous dusk
Of great magnolias! Whiter than the tusk
Of Indian elephant, like beakers bright,
Their Bacchic flowers they lifted in delight,
And made libation of their winy musk.
To thee they made libation, and their leaves
Murmured of joy's increase; yet never more
Shall they nor I renew beneath thy spell
That joy. Thou changest; and my spirit grieves
That naught may be as it hath been before,
That welcome makes sad music with farewell.
| Forest Songs and Other Poems | |