Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/43

Rh The biting dust of need her beauteous face assailed,
 * Into her eyes it gnawed and quenched in tears its heat;

In drifts like to the sand-storm on her path it trailed,
 * Arched for her faintness in its billows a retreat.

Beneath the load of gloomy years her back she bent,
 * The scorching heat of toil upon her freshness preyed.

On death she placed her kiss; by grievous anguish rent,
 * Smiling, with whispered words of thanks she answer made.

On marble dank of churches she knelt down adream,
 * Amid the grave-yard taper scent, before the shrine;

She poured a shower of fragrant comforts in a stream
 * Within the chalice of her soul, as dew-drops shine.

O mother mine, to-day in lustre all aﬂame,
 * Thou golden arrow, to the focus that did fly

Of secrets ne'er at rest! The cadence of thy name
 * Upon our waves ceased quailing, but I know thee nigh!