Page:The Hundred Best Poems (lyrical) in the English language - second series.djvu/43

  Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: (such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From summits where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain.)

And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian's fine worm-eaten shroud, Which breaks to dust when once unrolled; And shred dim perfume, like a cloud From chamber long to quiet vowed, With mothed and dropping arras hung, Mouldering the lute and books among Of queen, long dead, who lived there young 1841 Edition.

 9.

BEAUTIFUL Evelyn Hope is dead! Sit and watch by her side an hour. That is her book-shelf, this her bed; She plucked that piece of geranium-flower, Beginning to die too, in the glass; Little has yet been changed, I think: The shutters are shut, no light may pass Save two long rays thro' the hinge's chink.

Sixteen years old when she died! Perhaps she had scarcely heard my name;  21