Skin creamy as the furled magnolia bud
That stabs the dusky shadows of her hair;
Great startled eyes, and sudden-pulsing blood
Staining her cheek and throat and shoulder bare.
(Ah Manuelita!
Lita Pepita!
List the...
List to that bird! His song—what poet pens it?
Brigand of birds, he ’s stolen every note!
Prince though of thieves—hark! how the rascal spends it!
Pours the whole forest from one tiny throat!
What charlatans in this later day
Beat at the gates of Art!
Each with his trick of speech or brush,—
Forgetting, that apart
From all the brawling of an age,
Its feverish fantasy,
She waits, who only unto Time
The soul of Art sets...
The Wakening bugles cut the night:
“To horse! To horse! Away!”
And thine the lips that bid me go,
The eyes that bid me stay.
God make me blind for this one hour!
God make me only hear
That hurrying drum,—that cry, “They come!”
And...
Thou foolish blossom, all untimely blown!
Poor jest of summer, come when woods are chill!
Thy sister buds, in June’s warm redness grown,
That lit with laughter all the upland hill,
Have traceless passed; save on each thornëd stem
Red drops tell how...
