 | Benoni |  |
93
IRENE.
Dark is her spirit—dark, and strangely sweet—
Most like the clear bronze twilight of the sea;
And stirless all and smooth, without a beat
In the calm tide that flows for only me.
Most like the clear bronze twilight of the sea;
And stirless all and smooth, without a beat
In the calm tide that flows for only me.
There no swift-rippling phantasies of light
With fleeting films the quiet surface wreathe;
No splendid dazzling sheens, opaquely bright,
Veil the pure shadow'd stillness underneath:
With fleeting films the quiet surface wreathe;
No splendid dazzling sheens, opaquely bright,
Veil the pure shadow'd stillness underneath:
And all the inner with the outer blends—
Melts thro' it as the sunshine thro' the skies;
And lends the clear white to her brow, and lends
The deep transparent richness to her eyes.
Melts thro' it as the sunshine thro' the skies;
And lends the clear white to her brow, and lends
The deep transparent richness to her eyes.
Silence is with her—silence full of prayer
And thoughts that slowly make her more divine;
The while she sits alone, serenely fair,
And dreams her tender spirit into mine.
And thoughts that slowly make her more divine;
The while she sits alone, serenely fair,
And dreams her tender spirit into mine.
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