Page:Songs before sunrise (IA beforesunrisongs00swinrich).pdf/252



my laurel-leaf At the white feet of grief, Seeing how with covered face and plumeless wings, With unreverted head Veiled, as who mourns his dead, Lay Freedom couched between the thrones of kings, A wearied lion without lair, And bleeding from base wounds, and vexed with alien air.

Who was it, who, put poison to thy mouth, Who lulled with craft or chant thy vigilant eyes, O light of all men, lamp to north and south, Eastward and westward, under all men's skies? For if thou sleep, we perish, and thy name Dies with the dying of our ephemeral breath; And if the dust of death o'ergrows thy flame, Heaven also is darkened with the dust of death.