William Wetmore Story

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  • Cleopatra

    Here Charmian, take my bracelets:
      They bar with a purple stain
    My arms; turn over my pillows—
      They are hot where I have lain:
    Open the lattice wider,
      A gauze o’er my bosom throw,
    And let me inhale the odors
      That over the garden blow...

  • Praxiteles and Phryne

    A thousand silent years ago,
      The twilight faint and pale
    Was drawing o’er the sunset glow
      Its soft and shadowy veil;

    When from his work the Sculptor stayed
      His hand, and, turned to one
    Who stood beside him, half in shade,
      Said,...

  • Io Victis

    I sing the hymn of the conquered, who fell in the Battle of Life,—
    The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in the strife;
    Not the jubilant song of the victors, for whom the resounding acclaim
    Of nations was lifted in chorus, whose brows wore the chaplet...

  • Cleopatra

    Here, charmian, take my bracelets:
      They bar with a purple stain
    My arms; turn over my pillows—
      They are hot where I have lain:
    Open the lattice wider,
      A gauze o’er my bosom throw,
    And let me inhale the odors
      That over the garden...