 | The Judgment of Prometheus |  |
54
III. DAWN.
How soft thy rosy fingers fall,
Fair Dawn, upon the happy eyes
Where Love their lord, their all in all,
Dwells and makes glad his votaries;
Fair Dawn, upon the happy eyes
Where Love their lord, their all in all,
Dwells and makes glad his votaries;
A steadfast Love, with folded wings
That spread to flee no more, no more,
But fan with mystic murmurings
The deathless flame whose seed they bore.
That spread to flee no more, no more,
But fan with mystic murmurings
The deathless flame whose seed they bore.
How mild the sounds of morning come,
Whether around some rural bower,
Or even the city's gathering hum
Is hallowed by the magic hour.
Whether around some rural bower,
Or even the city's gathering hum
Is hallowed by the magic hour.
55
Her fairy head has felt the Dawn,
And stirs, unwakened, till it rest,
By sweet unconscious impulse drawn,
On the broad pillow of my breast.
And stirs, unwakened, till it rest,
By sweet unconscious impulse drawn,
On the broad pillow of my breast.
Ah, gladness pure as moorland dew!
What golden word might e'er express
The still deep joy that thrills me through,
Unfathomable tenderness?
What golden word might e'er express
The still deep joy that thrills me through,
Unfathomable tenderness?
Two wingëd presences divine
Above our guarded rest maintain
Their interwoven watch benign,
To link the hours with charmëd chain.
Above our guarded rest maintain
Their interwoven watch benign,
To link the hours with charmëd chain.
We feel amid the silence deep
Their brooding plumage gently move;
Love laid us on the wings of Sleep,
And Sleep has borne us back to Love.
Their brooding plumage gently move;
Love laid us on the wings of Sleep,
And Sleep has borne us back to Love.
| The Judgment of Prometheus | |