Page:Anthology of Modern Slavonic Literature in Prose and Verse by Paul Selver.djvu/276

252

 But now these things to man are dear: The mighty sun, that on the sky-line sways In glory; and the days in warm career, The glow of earth beneath his feet ablaze.

When tearful autumn roves across the land, And everywhere a parlous mist is poured, And every day a purgatory seems—

We gladly clutch the wine-cup in our hand; For there the ardour of the sun is stored, Heat of July and bliss of summer dreams. "Four Books of Sonnets" (1890–92). 

 an anguished melody still flows From earth where hazes spread a veiling net In every nook the faded beauty stows Her faded blooms, lest springtide she forget.

But the desire, as ere to gladden, glows Within; unchilled her inmost ardour yet, And gaudy sashes round her waist she throws And asters in her tresses she has set.

Fain would she laugh as in her bygone days— But 'mid her wrinkles laughter takes to flight And from them only pity, pity cries

Divining this, perchance she has surmise: A hundred tears each morn her garb displays Shed in the anguish of her sleepless night. "Autumn Sonnets" (1892). 