Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/44

Rh I am the blossom of thy blood, grown chill and dead,
 * That budded from the moisture of thine eyes, and grew,

Upon my lips thy life's sharp savour thou didst shed,
 * And from thy childhood sadness to my soul withdrew.

And when 'mid nightly calm, green midnight shimmers clear,
 * Thou risest from the grave, and with my couch art blent,

And in my breath, the rhythm of thy breath I hear,
 * And quickened by my voice's wave, thou dost lament.

Into my veins the warmth is from thy frame delivered,
 * The gloomy lustre of thine eyes in mine is poured;

The mystic heat of faith, 'neath which thy spirit quivered,
 * Into my soul in glowing, blood-red fire has soared.

And mine is now the gloomy path where once thou paced,
 * Of fragrances, hues, blossoms, light, my day is bare;