Page:The college beautiful, and other poems.djvu/79

Rh What though thy cup, with dark devices chased, Strike pallor down the lip, to mortal taste So passing bitter with the Stygian mire And nightshade plucked on sad Cimmerian waste ? Yet when the mystic veil about thee rolled Shifts for a fleeting space its sable fold, Blown by the flame of the funereal pyre, Thy vesture gleams of bright, celestial gold. Gloom-mantled herald of the light to be, Thy dusky wings that spread from sea to sea Hide us from evil, and thy sword, though dire The sweeping blade, sets sorrow's captives free. Of all the angels whose melodious breath The Sapphire Throne with praise encompasseth, Amid that rainbow-plumed, ecstatic choir Most beautiful art thou, benignant Death.

EARY of life ? But what if death To new confusion bids ? Who knows if labor ends with breath, Or tears with folded lids ?