Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/47

Rh  From salty lakes the noon-tides approached; the vault of the sky with its gleaming On all that had died, the knell of their summer-days was sounding; Their shimmering pinions o'er all the sky to the zenith streaming Above us were bounding. Whither their shadows tool: refuge the eyes were in weariness closed, The blood like the shaft of a furnace its glitter o'er purest of visions did throw A torturing heat in the midst of eternity's rapture, The heavenly city aglow.

Blossoms I saw, and their chalices blooming towards the sun they did hold, Like maidens their lamps, poured full with oils of gold; And in the lamps the fires flickered, grew dark and aflame in the wind, On the secret path of pleasure entwined.

Tell unto me, O my soul, whither thy mornings have roamed, And whither have flown thy noon-tide hours, And faded away like the richness of flowers? My mornings before me their blossoms have laid, In roses that never can fade; To their nest in the sun have flown my noon-tide hours, With the sun they have gone to rest, 