Page:Pictures In Rhyme.djvu/47

Rh 'Obey, obey! I have no time to pause, to stay; We must be far away Ere day.'

'I scarcely yet begin to live After the years of gathering toil, Needing no longer now to strive, My cellars filled with wine and oil. My honey-bees do congregate Near barns which groan beneath the weight Of corn, and shrivelled fruit, in rows, Hangs rafter-strung; whilst daily grows More loud the lowing in my stalls. Atlanta, too, this day has foaled. These jars of silver, bowls of gold, These purple robes of sea-born dye, Yon gaudy birds which swing and cry In unknown, brazen tongues.Yon slaves, Spice-scented, from whose viols falls Soft music on my painted walls, Passion and sleep's melodious waves.