This page has been validated.
'Mid the bowed leaves I lingered,
Lashed by the blast of Pain,
Till evening, storm-rose-fingered,
Beckoned to night again.


There burst a flood of Quiet
Over the unstellèd skies;
Full moon flashed out a-riot:
Near her I dreamt thine eyes
Afloat with night, still trembling
With captured mysteries:
But sulphured wracks, assembling,
Redarkened the bright skies.


Ah, thou at least art lying
Safe at the white nymph's feet,
Listless, while I, slow-dying,
Twist my gaunt limbs for heat!
Yet I'll to Earth, my Mother:
So, boy, I'll still entreat
Forgive me—for none other
Like Earth is honey-sweet!
(See former version, page 30)

222