IX. LOVE'S COLOR. I CAN nor tell nor sing the bliss of loving, Words, symbols, lyres, seraphic trumpets are too weak That silence is its best interpreter. Love never did gain strength through speech or ear; If found loquacious, it is plumed for roving, Or lodged in bosoms little worth its moving. All things assume the color of my love, I only see through its prismatic eyes. It vests the stars in hues of Paradise, And clothes the moon in soulshine from above If sun, moon, stars went out-earth were black night, I could live on and love by Love's celestial light. X. LOVE'S LAST SWEET DRAUGHT. A WEEK ago to-day, the hours embalmed, Upon thy breast I bowed my throbbing head, From out the crystal cup of love divine. Stars dawned. The storm of woe aback was driven, In muffled murmurs like a dying dirge. I heard the waves of bliss around me surge, And all the Angels calling me in heaven, When lo the hand of Reason smote the bowl, And dashed it from the lips of my inebriate soul. XI. THE CHANGE. AH! woe is me! how have I fallen from To trail the dust like any other worm ! Where are my wings that erst outsoared the storm, As the bold eagle cleaves the upper air? Where are the sylphs that twined my flowing hair, Or with me float upon their silvery spars I lie, adrift adown the dreary dark, Where dawns no beacon-star to guide my helmless bark. XII. THE RIVER OF THE PAST. I'm roving up the river of the past, Where thou and I, Adhémar, hand in hand— Cheek pressed to cheek, whilom, were wont to stand, Watching the golden moments as they passed; Or, speechless, gaze into each other's eyes Until our souls arose in those expanses, And stood up, face to face, exchanging glances A passport through the gates of Eden won, That lifted it above the thought of sin And the full sanction of both heaven and earth did win. XIII. THE PARTING. 'Tis just one year ago, beloved, to-day, Since, my pale hand between thy hands compressed, I laid my burning brow upon thy breast, And bade the flood-gates of my heart give way, As if an adder pierced me with its fang, Mine eyes were open, yet I could not see— I breathed, yet I was dead-all things were dead to me. |