Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/167



her who walks in Paphos take the glass, let Paphos take the mirror and the work of frosted fruit, gold apples set with silver apple-leaf, white leaf of silver wrought with vein of gilt.

Let Paphos lift the mirror; let her look into the polished center of the disk.

Let Paphos take the mirror: did she press flowerlet of flame-flower to the lustrous white of the white forehead? did the dark veins beat a deeper purple than the wine-deep tint of the dark flower?

Did she deck black hair, one evening, with the winter-white flower of the winter-berry? Did she look (reft of her lover) 153