Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/187

Rh And feel her cool and dewy fingers press My mortal-fevered brow, while in my heart She poured with tender love Her healing Lethe-balm ! See! the close curtain moves, the spell dissolves! Slowly it lifts : the dazzling sunshine streams Upon a newborn world And laughing summer seas. Swift, snowy-breasted sandbirds twittering glance Through crystal air. On the horizon’s marge, Like a huge purple wraith, The dusky fog retreats.

&quot; OH brew me a potion strong and good ! One golden drop in his wine Shall charm his sense and fire his blood, And bend his will to mine.&quot; Poor child of passion ! ask of me Elixir of death or sleep, Or Lethe s stream ; but love is free, And woman must wait and weep.