Page:Poems and lyrics of the joy of earth.djvu/151

Rh Love, lady, like the star above that lance Of radiance flung by sunset on ridged cloud, Sad as the last line of a brave romance!— Young Love hung dim, yet quivering round him threw Beams of fresh fire while Beauty waned and bowed.
 * Scorn Love, and dread the doom for you.

Called she not for her mirror, sir? Forth ran Her women: I am lost, she cried, when lo, Love in the form of an admiring man Once more in adoration bent the knee And brought the faded Pagan to full blow:
 * For which her throne she gave: not we!