Page:Modern poets and poetry of Spain.djvu/401

Rh With eyes all vaguely motionless,
 * Perhaps my wanderings view

The dead, with horror and distress, As, roused up in their resting-place,
 * They look their dark walls through.

'T was not to muse I hither came
 * Of nothingness my part;

Nor of my God, but of a name, That deep in characters of flame
 * Is written on my heart.

Pardon, O God! the worldly thought,
 * Nor mark it midst my prayer;

Grant it to pass, with evil fraught, As die the river's murmurings brought
 * Upon the breezy air.