Page:Songs of the Springtides - Swinburne (1880).pdf/34

 One rose of all the rose-beds in the world: But round his brows the curls were snakes that curled, And like his tongue a serpent's; and his voice Speaks death, and bids rejoice. Yet then he spake no word, seeming as dumb, A dumb thing mild and hurtless; nor at first From his bowed eyes seemed any light to come, Nor his meek lips for blood or tears to thirst: But as one blind and mute in mild sweet wise Pleading for pity of piteous lips and eyes, He strayed with faint bare lily-lovely feet Helpless, and flowerlike sweet: Nor might man see, not having word hereof, That this of all gods was the great god Love.

And seeing him lovely and like a little child