Page:The eighth sin (IA eighthsin00morlrich).pdf/46



dying Day lies bleeding in the west, Stanching his ebbing anguish in the cool Blue bosom of the Night. . . And by the salty island shore a pool, A shallow tidal pool, his blood reflects, Mirrors the crimson. . . Alone and peaceful to her evening meal The tiny limpet goes, perchance reviewing In the chaste closets of her virgin mind The unambitious current of her thoughts, Her calm desires; and from her fluted shell She shyly looks about, bearing her eyes Upon retractile stalks; with sheepish joy Observes one of her kindred gastropods, Significantly beckon from afar.

O gentle cochlea! Unwitting thou That on the rocky promont near at hand There stands with folded arms, with brow contort,