Page:Modern Czech Poetry, 1920.djvu/95

Rh That nodded by my head; A straying butterfly With wings of purest purple And purest gold, anon Gleamed o'er the throng of lines, Like to a living stanza Of this harmonious, empassioned poem.

And then my eyes were turned Below the book across the wall To the quiet graveyard sleeping in the forest, And before me, lo, were other Stanzas eddying onwards, Of an unbounded epic So full of grace, of calm, of rest, of sorrow, So full of concord, full of resignation, Of that unending poem Chanted by ruthless Death, — and with a shudder I quickly closed the book: The hymn of bliss was hushed before Death's song. And, as in concord, came the limpid rustle Of solemn beeches and of silvery birches; The butterfly was gone; the glowing poppy As in rebuke, grew still 'mid sultry air And in the sunlight burned “Life and death” (1892).