Page:Carroll - Three Sunsets.djvu/48

BEATRICE. Of a Beatrice pale and stern,
 * With the lips of a dumb despair,

With the innocent eyes that yearn—
 * Yearn for the young sweet hours of life,
 * Far from sorrow and far from strife,

For the happy summers, that never return,
 * When the world seemed good and fair:

Of a Beatrice glorious, bright—
 * Of a sainted, ethereal maid,

Whose blue eyes are deep fountains of light,
 * Cheering the poet that broodeth apart,
 * Filling with gladness his desolate heart,

Like the moon when she shines thro' a cloudless night
 * On a world of silence and shade.

And the visions waver and faint,
 * And the visions vanish away

That my fancy delighted to paint—
 * She is here at my side, a living child,
 * With the glowing cheek and the tresses wild,

Nor death-pale martyr, nor radiant saint,
 * Yet stainless and bright as they.

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