Barks that were launched on the other side, And slipped from heaven on an ebbWhat does he think of his mother's ing tide! eyes? What does he think of his mother's hair? What of the cradle-roof that flies Forward and backward through the air? What does he think of his mother's breast, Bare and beautiful, smooth and white, Seeking it ever with fresh delight, Cup of his life and couch of his rest? What does he think when her quick embrace Presses his hand and buries his face Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell With a tenderness she can never tell, Though she murmur the words Of all the birds, Words she has learned to murmur well? Now he thinks he'll go to sleep! [From the Marble Prophecy.] THE TYPE OF STRUGGLING LAOCOON! thou great embodiment Of the sad future, thou majestic voice, Pealing along the ages from old time! Thou wail of agonized humanity! There lives no thought in marble like to thee! Thou hast no kindred in the Vatican, But standest separate among the dreams Of old mythologies - alone - alone! are all The gods and goddesses and fauns and fates That populate these wondrous halls; but thou, Standing among them, liftest up thyself In majesty of meaning, till they sink Far from the sight, no more signifi cant Than the poor toys of children. For thou art A voice from out the world's experi ence, Speaking of all the generations past To all the generations yet to come Of the long struggle, the sublime despair, The wild and weary agony of man! ON THE RIGHI. ON the Righi Kulm we stood, Into rose from twilight dun; SAXE HOLME. THREE KISSES OF FAREWELL. THREE, only three, my darling, Separate, solemn, slow; Not like the swift and joyous ones, We used to know When we kissed because we loved each other Simply to taste love's sweet, And lavished our kisses as the sum mer Lavishes heat; But as they kiss whose hearts are wrung, When hope and fear are spent, And nothing is left to give except A sacrament! First of the three, my darling, Is sacred unto pain; We have hurt each other often: We shall again, The last kiss, oh, my darling, Through my tears, as I remember When we pine because we miss each We may die and never see each other, |