Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/94

88

And who knows, (I sometimes wondered,)

If the disembodied soul

Of old Hector, once of Troy,

Might not take a dreary joy

Here to enter—if it thundered,

Rolling up the thunder-roll?

Rolling this way, from Troy-ruin,

In this body rude and rife,

He might enter, and take rest

'Neath the daisies of the breast—

They, with tender roots, renewing

His heroic heart to life.

Who could know? I sometimes started

At a motion or a sound!

Did his mouth speak—naming Troy,

With an ?

Did the pulse of the Strong-hearted

Make the daisies tremble round?

It was hard to answer, often:

But the birds sang in the tree—

But the little birds sang bold,

In the pear-tree green and old;

And my terror seemed to soften,

Through the courage of their glee.