. Flora . THE BIRD SET FREE No marvel, Sweet, you clap your wings In hunger for the open sky;I see your pretty flutterings, Will let you fly. But O, when in some shady grot You preen your breast in noondays not your Susan quite forgot, Who hungers too ! 29 MOURNST THOU NOW? Long ago from radiant palace,Dream-bemused, in flood of moon,Stole the princess SeraphitaInto forest gloom. Wail of hemlock ; cold the dew-drops ;Danced the Dryads in the chace;Heavy hung ambrosial fragrance;Moonbeams blanched her ravished face. Frail and clear the notes delusive;Mocking phantoms in a routThridded t
. Flora . THE BIRD SET FREE No marvel, Sweet, you clap your wings In hunger for the open sky;I see your pretty flutterings, Will let you fly. But O, when in some shady grot You preen your breast in noondays not your Susan quite forgot, Who hungers too ! 29 MOURNST THOU NOW? Long ago from radiant palace,Dream-bemused, in flood of moon,Stole the princess SeraphitaInto forest gloom. Wail of hemlock ; cold the dew-drops ;Danced the Dryads in the chace;Heavy hung ambrosial fragrance;Moonbeams blanched her ravished face. Frail and clear the notes delusive;Mocking phantoms in a routThridded the night-cloistered thickets,Wove their sorceries in and out . . Mournst thou now ? Or do thine eyelidsFrame a vision dark, divine—Oer this imp of star and wild-flower—Of a god once thine ? 30. MOURNST THOU NOW? h, fU <-*J M / 9S ? THE SNOWFLAKE See, now, this filigree : tis snow,Shaped, in the void, of heavenly dew ;On winds of space like flower to blowIn a wilderness of blue. Black are those pines. The utter coldHath frozen to silence the birds green hath ensteeled the wormless mould,A vacant quiet broods. Lo, this entranced thing !—a breathOf life that bids Mans heart to craveStill for perfection : ere fall death,And earth shut in his grave.
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Keywords: ., bookauthordelamare, bookcentury1900, bookdecade1910, bookyear1919
