Page:The Soul of a Century.djvu/12



Love, O love, you sweet untamed deceit, Sparkling goblet filled with sheer delight, Wherein kindred souls are bound in plight, In one passion, earth and heavens meet.

If we could only see your charms replete, While hid beyond some thicket, still as night, Ere the winds in their destructive might Wreck our sails and bring us to defeat.

Where, O sister of the Gods Immortal, Are you, faithless guest within my heart, Child of gladness, keeper of grief’s portal?

I have hastened vainly to your bower, While a north wind tore my rose apart Leaving sharpened thorns as it took the flower.

Dearest relic of my youthful days Tresses interwove with purest gold You deserve that Pope your life unfold That the bard of Illiad proclaim your praise.

Offer me a golden fleece or the stars’ bright rays Give me palaces with a Sultan’s wealth untold, I would not trade you, memory of old, Not for all the worldly wealth ablaze.

Guard the key to my heart’s beating fire, Teach it e’er to hold in cold disdain Hollow beauty and untamed desire.

Some day, when the winds my dust will scatter, Lose yourself among the stars again, Where Berenice’s Locks the heavens flatter.

Mountains, mountains! Listen, I implore, Climb atop each others stony face, Build a ladder for me into space, That I may behold her evermore. Mountains, mountains! Listen, I implore!