 | Benoni |  |
206
THE SEXES.
O, you are fair—you have soft turtle-eyes,
Not flush'd with vulgar passion, clouded not
With stains of folly,—whose transparent lymph
No shadows dull, no fretful eddies blot:
Not flush'd with vulgar passion, clouded not
With stains of folly,—whose transparent lymph
No shadows dull, no fretful eddies blot:
Your souls are precious oratories, closed
And curtain'd in from all things not divine;
Where smoothest sounds enrich the loving air,
And moons alone and silver cressets shine.
And curtain'd in from all things not divine;
Where smoothest sounds enrich the loving air,
And moons alone and silver cressets shine.
You dwell in peace among your pleasant hours—
You hear no echoes from the far-off strife;
You lift your shining eyes, and all the place
Feels happier—feels the magic of your life.
You hear no echoes from the far-off strife;
You lift your shining eyes, and all the place
Feels happier—feels the magic of your life.
But we—for us in the thick thronging days
No shrine, no bower, no oasis appears;
No path is left whereby we might have climb'd
Back for a moment to the better years:
No shrine, no bower, no oasis appears;
No path is left whereby we might have climb'd
Back for a moment to the better years:
207
We have forgotten all—we hear not now
Our mothers' teachings,—see not in the land
Its ancient beauties,—look on you as dreams
Too fair to love, too high to understand:
Our mothers' teachings,—see not in the land
Its ancient beauties,—look on you as dreams
Too fair to love, too high to understand:
We are uncover'd—the rank, stagnant air
Infects our breath—our curdled souls endure
A press of crawling horrors—and vile sounds
Hiss in our dull ears: how can we be pure?
Infects our breath—our curdled souls endure
A press of crawling horrors—and vile sounds
Hiss in our dull ears: how can we be pure?
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