 | Collected poems |  |
68
A WOMAN'S VOICE
His head within my bosom lay,
But yet his spirit slipped not through:
I only felt the burning clay
That withered for the cooling dew.
But yet his spirit slipped not through:
I only felt the burning clay
That withered for the cooling dew.
It was but pity when I spoke
And called him to my heart for rest,
And half a mother's love that woke
Feeling his head upon my breast:
And called him to my heart for rest,
And half a mother's love that woke
Feeling his head upon my breast:
And half the lion's tenderness
To shield her cubs from hurt or death,
Which, when the serried hunters press,
Makes terrible her wounded breath.
To shield her cubs from hurt or death,
Which, when the serried hunters press,
Makes terrible her wounded breath.
But when the lips I breathed upon
Asked for such love as equals claim—
I looked where all the stars were gone
Burned in the day's immortal flame.
Asked for such love as equals claim—
I looked where all the stars were gone
Burned in the day's immortal flame.
“Come thou like yon great dawn to me
From darkness vanquished, battles done:
Flame unto flame shall flow and be
Within thy heart and mine as one.”
From darkness vanquished, battles done:
Flame unto flame shall flow and be
Within thy heart and mine as one.”
| Collected poems | |