MY LADY OF DREAM 
 
 LLOYD MIFFLIN 
 
MY 
 LADY OF DREAM 
 
 BY 
 
 LLOYD MIFFLIN 
 
 Faith in the whispers of the lonely Muse, 
 While the whole world seems adverse to desert. 
 
 WORDSWORTH 
 
 HENRY FROWDE 
 
 LONDON: 
 AMERICAN BRANCH 
 
 New York, 91-93 Fifth Avenue 
 1906 
 
COPYRIGHT, 1906, 
 BY LLOYD MIFFL1N 
 
 All rights reserved 
 
 Plates by Rose Vally Press 
 Prestwork by WicJ.-ershnm Co., Lancaster, Pa., U. S. A. 
 
PREFATORY 
 
 In these poems, called "My Lady Of 
 Dream ", / have sought to apostrophize in 
 an elusive way that Spirit which has ever 
 been very dear to me and at whose feet I 
 have offered many years of my life. 
 
 L. M. 
 
 NORWOOD, 
 
 NUT.' ember 1 5, /QO4- 
 
 345098 
 
THE LIBATION 
 
 All honor to the Maid divine! 
 Deep homage doth to her belong 
 Who points the pathway to my goal ; 
 For her I spill no mortal wine, 
 But from the chalice of my soul 
 I pour the cenomel of Song! 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 The Reader is Importuned l 
 
 The Lover describes his Beloved 3 
 
 "O Lovely thy Feet" 5 
 
 He Begs for her Favor 7 
 
 The Lover Protests . 9 
 
 The Sweetness of his Beloved 10 
 
 The Lips of his Beloved 12 
 
 He Invokes her Presence 13 
 
 His Source of Light 14 
 
 "Soul of the Dusk" 15 
 
 "Thy Voice in the Valley" 17 
 
 Alone in December Paths 19 
 
 He Follows her Light 21 
 
 "Crush thy Handful of Roses" 22 
 
 "Canst thou for this Atone" 23 
 
 "O Leave thy flaming Harp Inviolate" ... 25 
 
His Lady eludes his Pursuit 27 
 
 "Speak softly, Beloved" 29 
 
 He Returns after Absence 30 
 
 The Tryst with his Love 31 
 
 "What shall Atone" 32 
 
 "Sadly she sits upon her dazzling Throne" . . 34 
 
 "Come let us lie on the Hills" 36 
 
 He tells when her Spirit is Fairest 38 
 
 "Lo, thou sittest Enthroned" 39 
 
 "Angel of Peace!" 41 
 
 "The million Lilies of Gold" 43 
 
 A last Word to the Lady of his Love .... 45 
 
 At thy dear Feet 46 
 
 "And when at last the Portals loom" .... 48 
 
 Her Lover defies the Raven-black Steeds ... 50 
 
 "Beseech me no more" 52 
 
 "Imperial Inventress" 54 
 
 "I feel thy Spirit call me" 56 
 
 "Come nearer, my Beloved" 57 
 
THE READER IS IMPORTUNED 
 
 Warily tread o'er the delicate bridge 
 
 of dreams 
 Builded in silence from tremulous cobweb 
 
 and mist, 
 Warily over the chasm of cloud and of 
 
 streams 
 
 High on the vapory arches of amethyst ; 
 Shake off the dust of the world and the 
 
 care that clings; 
 Gird on the sandals that give to the feet 
 
 their wings ; 
 
 Airily, pray you, airily spirit along; 
 1 
 
Thin is the fabric and wove of the veriest 
 
 film of song, 
 Wavers, and sways, and is not what 
 
 it seems, 
 Warily, warily over the Bridge of Dreams. 
 
THE LOVER DESCRIBES HIS 
 BELOVED 
 
 A rose she is, most passing fair, 
 
 That makes more sweet the summer air 
 
 For one day only ; 
 A solitary cloud at noon, 
 That melting in the dome of June, 
 
 Leaves the blue lonely: 
 
 A bird at dawn that upward flies 
 And falls from out the scarlet skies 
 
 Of Eldorado ; 
 
 A murmuring shell upon the shore 
 3 
 
Swirled sudden down beneath the roar 
 To realms of shadow: 
 
 A sumptuous moth, in autumn hours, 
 A-flutter o'er ephemeral flowers 
 
 In vain endeavor ; 
 A firefly in the fields of even, 
 That lights a little space of heaven, 
 
 Then fades for ever. 
 
"O LOVELY THY FEET" 
 
 O lovely thy feet shod with sandals 
 resounding ; 
 
 silver the echo o'er mountain and 
 
 valley 
 Far over the hills of the morningl 
 
 1 follow the print that thy sandals 
 
 are making ; 
 I follow the sound of thy footsteps 
 
 arising 
 Far over the hills of the morning. 
 
 O help me to mount from the earth to 
 the ether; 
 
Like thee, let me rise to the regions 
 
 celestial 
 Away on the wings of the morning ! 
 
HE BEGS FOR HER FAVOR 
 
 Lo, I stoop and embrace thy sweet knees, 
 And my face which is white with desire 
 
 low is laid in thy lap. 
 Take thy hands, O Beloved, lay them faint 
 
 on my neck, 
 And thy lips, bend them down and breathe 
 
 tremulous words, giving comfort and love ; 
 Soothe thy lover with hope of thyself; 
 With the rose of thy beauty decoy him to 
 
 thee; 
 With thy spirit encurtain us round as the 
 
 gloaming envelopes the vale. 
 7 
 
I am sick of deceit; of the hardness of 
 hearts ; of the absence of love. 
 
 Lo, I bury my face in the lily thy lap ; 
 
 Leave me not ; take thy hands, O Beloved, 
 lay them faint on my neck, soothe 
 and solace with tremulous words. 
 
THE LOVER PROTESTS 
 
 At eve about the wooded hills I roam ; 
 
 Devious the ways I tread, and far from home 
 I care not, Sweet, how wide the winding be 
 
 Love curves the path and circles back to thee, 
 
THE SWEETNESS OF HIS 
 BELOVED 
 
 Dull life were then indeed worth while, 
 Bathed in the languor of her smile. 
 
 Enough it were to soothe despair 
 To touch, in dreams, her twilight hair. 
 
 'Twere worth the wisdom of the wise 
 To live upon her dream-dim eyes. 
 
 Famished, to muse upon her mouth 
 Were gushing wells in lands of drouth. 
 
 10 
 
To hope to touch her virgin lips 
 Whirls the calm brain in wild eclipse ; 
 
 But on her heart to draw one's breath 
 Such bliss would poniard one to death ! 
 
 11 
 
THE LIPS OF HIS BELOVED 
 
 Fragrance and balm of ethereal isles ; 
 
 Perfume exhaled from the gates of the day; 
 
 Languorous zephyrs all heavy with song 
 As winds that have lingered in lyres of love ; 
 
 Raptures as keen as the skylark's aloft 
 When fading to poesy far in the cloud ; 
 
 Passion and pathos and mystery deep ; 
 Solace, and spur to the spirit of light: 
 
 For these, lo, I spill all my soul 
 On the sweetness that lies in the rose of 
 her mouth. 
 
 12 
 
HE INVOKES HER PRESENCE 
 
 Out of the glory Aurora will lend her; 
 
 Up from the diamond dew of the lea ; 
 Down from the sunset of sumptuous splendor, 
 
 Delicate Spirit, hither to me! 
 
 Out of the caverns of lightning and thunder ; 
 
 Up from the glimmering green of the sea; 
 Down from the stars with their fathomless wonder, 
 
 Delicate Spirit, hither to me ! 
 
 Up from the dark of Death's Lethean portal ; 
 
 Out of the regions where Life and Love be ; 
 Down from the flaming-winged Seraphs immortal, 
 
 Delicate Spirit, hither to me ! 
 
 13 
 
HIS SOURCE OF LIGHT 
 
 I'm like the gray cloud just above 
 
 The dawn ere day 's begun, 
 And thou my source of light, my Love, 
 
 Thou art my morning sun. 
 Pale am I till I feel thy beam, 
 
 Till life thy light bestows, 
 And then a golden cloud I seem 
 
 Bathed in celestial rose. 
 
 14 
 
"SOUL OF THE DUSK" 
 
 Delicate Sprite ! Thou fair elusive maid, 
 
 Poised in thy grace above the hill-top low; 
 Soul of the dusk above the valley shade, 
 
 Seen in the after-glow, 
 Sink softly down within the woods afar, 
 
 Lily the upland with thy presence sweet, 
 Nestle amid the fern, e'en as a star, 
 
 To guide me to thy feet. 
 
 To thy pure self, as to some holy shrine, 
 
 I, who in Love's dear ways was sorely crossed, 
 
 Come with cooled lips to touch thy brow divine, 
 No longer passion-tossed. 
 
 15 
 
O Spirit of that thin and finer air 
 
 That lights the summits which to thee belong, 
 Raise me to regions infinitely fair 
 
 That tremble into song. 
 
 Leave me not yet within the lonely woods ; 
 
 Linger, a radiance o'er the laureled gloom ; 
 O lift me to supernal altitudes 
 
 Of amaranthine bloom ! 
 
 Slowly she fadeth from my yearning sight, 
 Yet in my soul her presence do I greet: 
 
 Adieu, dark vale, I camp upon the height 
 I, who would kiss her feet. 
 
 16 
 
<THY VOICE IN THE VALLEY" 
 
 Thy voice in the valley at evening is sweetness 
 
 unheard of. 
 I hear not the coo of the dove when thou 
 
 speakest ; 
 
 E'en the lay of the mavis is discord ; 
 All the throats of the woodland are silenced ; 
 Thou drawest thy honey from fabulous flowers 
 
 of feeling. 
 Thy limbs are as smooth as the limbs of the 
 
 white birch in winter; 
 The lace of thy garments is fine as the bloom 
 
 of wild parsnip, or dew-spangled cobweb 
 
 in meadows of morn ; 
 
 17 
 
Thy breasts are as fair as the blossoms of elder 
 
 in shadowy places ; 
 
 Thine eyes like the eyes of the oxen of Ind ; 
 Thy breath is a wafture from beds of tea-roses 
 
 in gardens of silence : 
 Thou hast stolen my soul ; thou hast ravished 
 
 my senses ; 
 Lo, I faint in thine arms, o'ercome by thy 
 
 sweetness ! 
 
ALONE IN DECEMBER PATHS 
 
 Along the slopes of grasses gray 
 
 Against the windy hill 
 The slender beeches gently sway 
 
 Leafless, above the mill ; 
 And silent up the dreary shores 
 
 Denuded now, I trace 
 The white masts of the sycamores 
 
 At anchor by the race. 
 
 Above the windy thicket high 
 
 Circle the cawing crows, 
 And round the barren foot-path sigh 
 
 The briers of the rose : 
 
 19 
 
O leaden clouds that frown above 
 Soon would you disappear 
 
 If but the maiden of my love 
 Were strolling with me here. 
 
 Oh, tell her that I only seek 
 
 Herself in earth and skies 
 The lilied garden of her cheek, 
 
 The April of her eyes : 
 Far o'er the windy thicket high 
 
 Circle the cawing crows, 
 And round the barren foot-path sigh 
 
 The briers of the rose. 
 
 20 
 
HE FOLLOWS HER LIGHT 
 
 Howl on, ye winter midnight wind ! 
 
 Stab, javelins of the sleet! 
 But I have set my constant mind 
 
 To nestle at her feet. 
 
 Oh, while the waves in furious glee 
 
 Wreck the unbeaconed bark, 
 Though blinded, love would make me see 
 
 Her candle through the dark! 
 
 Eager, I dare the blizzard's might: 
 
 Joyous, I face the snow, 
 For on her breast I rest to-night 
 
 Then let the tempest blow! 
 
 21 
 
"CRUSH THY HANDFUL OF ROSES" 
 
 Crush thy handful of roses against my pale 
 lips, paled with song and with care ; 
 
 And smother mine eyes with their odorous 
 petals 
 
 Lest I, looking up, behold all thy beauty, 
 O fairest of fair ! 
 
 Withdraw to the heart of thy cloud, and curtain 
 thy loveliness off from my sight 
 
 Lest I, being mortal, and seeing too near 
 me thy beauty, 
 
 Should die of deep yearning and hopeless 
 delight. 
 
 22 
 
CANST THOU FOR THIS ATONE" 
 r 
 
 My life was in its Autumn, as I lay 
 Dreaming upon an upland o'er the sea. 
 Lonely I was as Lydian Niobe 
 
 When all her pearls Apollo took away. 
 
 Then came a beauteous woman fair as day, 
 Who gave herself and all her love to me ; 
 Anon sweet children clambered round my knee 
 
 Eager for kisses, and the time seemed May. 
 
 These children's children came, and 1 was grown 
 Aged and worn, but still on them I smiled 
 For love of them and of the mother mild. 
 
 Sudden I woke childless, forlorn, alone . . . 
 
 23 
 
O Poesy ! canst thou for this atone ? 
 Thou who hast reft me thus of wife and child ? 
 
 24 
 
O LEAVE THY FLAMING HARP 
 INVIOLATE" 
 
 O leave thy flaming harp inviolate on the 
 
 height ; 
 Undo thy sandals made of music and of 
 
 song; 
 Lo I, thy lover, in the vale have waited 
 
 long, 
 Descend and star the darkness, my Delight! 
 
 Thy breath is sweet as blossoming grape-vine 
 
 in the dell, 
 Or as fragrance borne from locust-trees 
 
 abloom ; 
 
 25 
 
Breathe on me, radiant Spirit, and aureole 
 
 the gloom, 
 Touch the lyre of my heart the prose of 
 
 life dispel. 
 
 Teach me to use the plectrum that loves thy 
 
 fingers lithe; 
 My time is brief, around me hover Shades 
 
 and shadowy Things ; 
 I hear the hoofs of pallor, the wind and 
 
 whirl of wings, 
 The roaring in the darkness of the fateful 
 
 scythe. 
 
 26 
 
HIS LADY ELUDES HIS PURSUIT 
 
 When the Horses of the Morning with their 
 rose-colored wings lifted high, 
 
 Come with lyre-like music far-echoing down the 
 flushed pearly lanes, 
 
 Beating with eager hoofs new splendor from the 
 waste of crimson sky, 
 
 Dazzling the charioteer with flare of backward- 
 flowing manes; 
 
 When the Winds from twilight caverns of the 
 Dawn arise, 
 
 Stretching their languorous arms, loosening the 
 fillets of their fragrant hair, 
 27 
 
Drowsed with the thought of night in troublous 
 
 deeps of dream-lit eyes, 
 Awake to wander forth on viewless pinions from 
 
 their lair; 
 Then my Lady of Light, my Love, whom from 
 
 days of old 
 I peered on with passionate yearning and lips 
 
 parched as with fire, 
 Withdrew from my vision her lilies of beauty 
 
 her hair of pale gold, 
 And plunged me in midnight of day, consumed 
 
 of desire. 
 
 28 
 
"SPEAK SOFTLY, BELOVED" 
 
 Speak softly, Beloved, I am hungered for hearing 
 
 thy voice which is rilled with dark meaning. 
 I will gather the pearls falling down from thy 
 
 lips; 
 I will string them together upon threads of gold 
 
 and hang them over my neck ; 
 And when sorrow and silence appear and thou 
 
 art away, 
 
 I will tell all the beads like a nun ; 
 I will murmur thy jewel-like words till they 
 
 solace my soul : 
 So, Beloved, speak only dark and beautiful 
 
 words. 
 
 29 
 
HE RETURNS AFTER ABSENCE 
 
 As the humming-bird comes to the flame of 
 
 the crimson canna ; 
 As the bees to the press, when the juice of 
 
 the grape drips purple; 
 So do I, my Beloved, return after tedious 
 
 absence 
 To thy lips that are heavy with honey and 
 
 passionate fragrance. 
 
 30 
 
THE TRYST WITH HIS LOVE 
 
 When the wings of the twilight-legion 
 
 And the ghosts of the sunset pale, 
 I float in the nebulous region 
 
 Of a spirit-haunted vale : 
 By the marge of the mystical river 
 
 I make of my love a lyre, 
 For she is a reed a-quiver, 
 
 And I am the wind, her desire. 
 
 31 
 
"WHAT SHALL ATONE" 
 
 What shall atone for studious days 
 Spent at the Muse's cruel side ? 
 What recompense wilt thou provide 
 For labor sore in making lays 
 One of thy wreathed bays, 
 Calliope ? 
 
 Think of the long nights spent with thee, 
 When other men were glad with wine, 
 
 With woman's love they deemed divine, 
 
 While I was lone as islands be 
 Within a sailless sea, 
 Calliope ! 
 
 32 
 
* 
 
 t 
 
 Would any wreath thou couldst bestow- 
 Albeit all wreaths of thine are vain 
 
 Repay for half this life-long pain? 
 
 Thy laurels for some happier brow; 
 I need not laurels now, 
 Calliope. 
 
 Still wear to me thine ancient frown ; 
 
 Be heartless, as thou wast of old, 
 And yield me neither rest nor gold ; 
 I scorn thy proffer of renown, 
 
 For Death, too, brings a crown, 
 Calliope ! 
 
 33 
 
" SADLY SHE SITS UPON HER 
 DAZZLING THRONE" 
 
 Not the close friendship of the closest friends, 
 
 Nor wealth descending on her golden wings ; 
 
 Titles nor honor, no ephemeral things, 
 Can, for the lack of her, e'er make amends. 
 She will not stoop to sublunary ends 
 
 Nor touch the baubles which the base world 
 brings ; 
 
 Her song unpurchasable still she sings, 
 And all her soul upon the singing spends. 
 She treads her constellated paths alone 
 
 Sandaled with starry aspirations bright, 
 34 
 
Beyond the visions of this world how far I 
 Sadly she sits upon her dazzling throne 
 In fading splendor like a lingering star 
 
 That pales at sunrise in the wastes of light! 
 
 35 
 
"COME, LET US LIE ON THE 
 HILLS" 
 
 Come, O my love, let us lie on the hills as 
 the clouds of the evening are crumbling 
 to amethyst dust. 
 
 Now the pinions of twilight are over the vale 
 and the woodlands grow dim in the dell. 
 
 Lo, thy hair, let it fall o'er thy lily-white 
 arm like the strings of a lyre, 
 
 And a wind from the meadows of Eros shall 
 sigh through the chords, 
 
 And at last thou wilt yield, thou wilt com- 
 fort thy lover with love ; 
 36 
 
Thou wilt know that the wind is his soul 
 
 that is longing and wasting away for 
 
 thy sweetness adored ; 
 Oh, at last at the last thou wilt yield! 
 Come ! let us lie on the hills side by side 
 
 as the embers of evening are crumbling 
 
 to ashes away. 
 
HE TELLS WHEN HER SPIRIT 
 IS FAIREST 
 
 Thy spirit suits not with the garish hour; 
 
 Too delicate thy cloistral bloom ; 
 Thou, like some austral orchid flower, 
 
 Unfold'st thy beauty but in gloom : 
 
 Fair in the morn, but lovelier far, Sweetheart, 
 In thy dim chamber's hushed lamp-light : 
 
 O Love ! the hyacinth itself thou art 
 Most fragrant at the dead of night. 
 
 38 
 
LO, THOU SITTEST ENTHRONED" 
 
 Lo, thou sittest enthroned on thy rolling 
 
 cloud, 
 As aloft are lifted in scorn thine inscrutable 
 
 eyes; 
 Not deigning to look on thy lover, low 
 
 bowed, 
 As in silence enforced, all despairing he 
 
 lies. 
 O look down from thy white rolling throne 
 
 in the skies ; 
 Lift, O Spirit, thy lover aloft to the cloud 
 
 round thee curled ; 
 39 
 
With thy harp teach his soul how to solace 
 
 the sighs, 
 And to drop Song in showers all over the 
 
 world. 
 
"ANGEL OF PEACE!" 
 
 Drowsy thou liest on thy poppied bed 
 Inamorata of the realms of air! 
 Goddess or queen or spirit, passing fair, 
 Rise from thy slumberous pillow where 
 is spread 
 
 In lustrous darkness round thy starry head 
 The wondrous wealth of thine ethereal hair- 
 Still whisper to me from thy dusky lair 
 Or Atropos shall cut the silver thread ! 
 
 Clear source and fountain of my fleeting lays, 
 Angel of peace, and saint that comforteth, 
 Thy lips were on my mouth I drew thy 
 breath 
 
 41 
 
Thine arms enwrapt me through thy shadowy 
 
 ways, 
 
 O thou divine consoler of my days 
 Be near me in the darkness after death ! 
 
'THE MILLION LILIES OF GOLD" 
 
 The million lilies of gold that bloom in the blue 
 
 I will gather and place at your beautiful feet; 
 And the delicate shallop that sails in the after- 
 glow- 
 Silver and slender and sweet 
 Shall anchor in daffodil pools to be nearer to you ; 
 While her sister, the lamp of the gloaming, swaying 
 low 
 
 In vaults of the orange sky 
 Shall pause a-pant with delight; 
 And when you are nigh 
 
 In the night, 
 The censers unseen 
 
 43 
 
That carry the breath of the perfumed air 
 Swaying in moonlit spaces afar, 
 Shall wave an impalpable wing 
 With odor of roses around you their Queen ; 
 And about you forever the darkest thing 
 
 Shall still be a star; 
 
 And the Genii shall take the cloud of your dim 
 sweet hair 
 
 As a mist afloat in the morn, 
 And cast it over the helpless hearts of men 
 
 Over serf, over king, 
 And the bridegroom shall turn from the bride 
 
 nor think she is fair 
 Shall desert her and desire you again; 
 And I, who loved you before I was born, 
 Shall love you forever and die of despair. 
 
 44 
 
A LAST WORD TO THE LADY 
 OF HIS LOVE 
 
 When this passionate heart is placed at last 
 
 upon Love's own pyre, 
 And the wraith of it, incense-like, ascends 
 
 to the twilight sky, 
 Take the words I whispered once on a time, 
 
 O soul of my soul's desire, 
 And croon them low on the violet banks 
 
 where we were wont to lie. 
 
AT THY DEAR FEET 
 
 As some stray carrier-pigeon onward hies 
 O'er alien spire and dim cathedral dome, 
 With weakening pinions that reluctant roam 
 
 Athwart the blank, inhospitable skies ; 
 
 Famished and faint, with eager, yearning eyes, 
 Whirled by the wind above the mad sea foam, 
 Till, at the last, outworn, he gains his home, 
 
 Falls at his mistress* feet, content, and dies: 
 
 So unto thee, sweet Spirit of all Song, 
 
 Weak and full weary with world-wanderings, 
 We wing the trackless deserts of our sky; 
 
 Truant to thee, O Poesy, too long, 
 
 46 
 
We reach thy feet at last with bleeding wings, 
 And fain would nestle near thy heart to die 1 
 
AND WHEN AT LAST THE 
 PORTALS LOOM" 
 
 O Spirit of the lustrous Nine, 
 Who art the fountain of my lays, 
 The source of all the rapturous days 
 
 That radiant come to me, 
 Through all this minstrel life of mine 
 Desert me not, O thou divine 
 
 Mnemosyne ! 
 
 Mnemosyne! 
 
 And when at last the portals loom, 
 When I shall drink Death's drowsy wine 
 
 48 
 
And long-loved valleys must resign 
 
 Blue peak, and sky, and sea 
 When darkly sinks the pall of doom 
 Oh, be thou with me through the gloom 
 
 Mnemosyne! 
 
 Mnemosyne! 
 
HER LOVER DEFIES THE RAVEN- 
 BLACK STEEDS 
 
 Too happy were we, O my Delight! 
 
 For I saw the raven-black Horses afar 
 Ramp on the edge of a cloud to-night 
 And I feared they were winging to us with 
 
 a curse, 
 
 For the chariot they drew 
 Had a place for two ; 
 It was sable-plumed like a hearse, 
 And stopped by a cloud-like grave : 
 Too happy were we, O my Delight . . . 
 Look in mine eyes, need we fear alarms ? . . 
 50 
 
A long wild kiss like the first you gave I ... 
 There ! . . let them come 
 The Horses of Night, 
 Let them take us locked in each other's arms ! 
 
"BESEECH ME NO MORE" 
 
 Beseech me no more, it is in vain, 
 O daughters of that which passeth away, 
 
 Whose lips with long kisses enchain, 
 Whose blood is as quick as the sap in May, 
 
 Beseech me no more, for there grows 
 In the dells of my heart, hidden deep, 
 
 My Lady of Peace, my Delight, my Rose, 
 Whose look is as lilies divine 
 And whose eyes are as day. 
 Do you not see her dim as a cloud on the steep 
 
 Beckoning still as she goes ? 
 Ah, daughters of that which passeth away, 
 52 
 
I am drawn fr<5 the side 
 Of my beautiful bride 
 
 Who will hold the cup as I drink her wine ; 
 And when I have waded the River of Sleep 
 
 That slips through the Valley of Dreams 
 Where nothing is and where everything seems, 
 And all is divine, 
 She will hold me fast 
 As I lie by her side, 
 She will fold me at last at last, 
 And I shall be hers, and she will be mine. 
 
 53 
 
"IMPERIAL INVENTRESS" 
 
 O guardian of the sought-for sacred fire ; 
 
 Mother of splendors springing from the mind ; 
 Imperial Inventress, let me find 
 
 Melodious solace great as my desire ! 
 
 Grant me to waken thine impassioned lyre 
 To most mellifluous music, and unbind 
 The bands of silence ; oh, once more be kind 
 
 E'en unto me, the least among thy choir! 
 
 O Breath of Godhead, voicing mysteries 
 That mortal men, unheeding, seldom hear, 
 Fain would my spirit bend a reverent ear 
 
 To feast upon thy heavenly harmonies ! 
 
 54 
 
Come through the sunset gates, or on the breeze 
 Memnonian, murmur to me, spirit clear; 
 Breathe solace and dispel this life-long tear 
 
 By mystic music sweeter than the sea's ! 
 
 Give to this essence flaming seraph wings, 
 Or burn it, incense-like, to thee and thine, 
 Upon thy altar with its purging fire ; 
 
 Strike thou at last from out these trembling strings 
 Apocalypses of the inner shrine 
 O Breath of God ! make of my soul thy lyre ! 
 
 55 
 
I FEEL THY SPIRIT CALL ME" 
 
 I feel thy Spirit call me from afar; 
 
 And if in silence now these steps I wend, 
 This forced aphonia shall not last for long ; 
 
 Not here, indeed, but in some fairer star, 
 Fed from immortal rills, I hope to end 
 A life ineloquent, with affluent Song. 
 
 56 
 
"COME NEARER, MY BELOVED" 
 
 Come nearer, my Beloved, it is night; 
 Bend down above my bed thy features mild; 
 No wife have I to love, nor tender child 
 Thou wert mine angel, wilt thou take thy 
 
 flight 
 
 Thou ! with thine eyes of pity infinite, 
 And leave me dying and unreconciled? 
 It was the sweetness of thy lips beguiled 
 Life of its pang and made the darkness bright 
 Oh, lean down nearer nearer do not fly 
 Have we not loved each other well and long? 
 Leave me not now, my heart my soul my 
 
 song 
 
 57 
 
Beloved Spirit ! Oh to thee I cry, 
 Wrap thy dear arms around me hold me 
 
 strong 
 Oh, wake me with thy kisses when I die ! 
 
. 
 
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