284
A SHEAF GLEANED
LIGHTS.
The sage muses and ponders with feelings of sorrow
On this life and its sin,
By a vase with dim light that gleams, gleams till the morrow,
Fed with oil from within.
Crowned with the vervain, hopeful and joyous, and dancing
As if flushed with the wine,
Shakes Hymen his fire-showers, the night sombre entrancing
With a torch of the pine.
Hovers over the feast, oh, how gracious its motion!
The mild lamp of perfume,
Like a galley of gold that sweeps over the ocean,
Poop on fire in the gloom!
At the foot of the Quirinal, the tavern throws nightly
Its red rays on the lane,
Where cluster low women, brazenfaced and unsightly,
In the cold or in the rain.
