William Wetmore Story | Poem Lake

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...