CANOPUS.
A LEAF FROM THE PAST.
Above the palms, the peaks of pearly gray
That hang, like dreams, along the slumbering skies,
An urn of fire that never burns away,
I see Canopus rise.
That hang, like dreams, along the slumbering skies,
An urn of fire that never burns away,
I see Canopus rise.
An urn of light, a golden-hearted torch,
Voluptuous, drowsy-throbbing mid the stars,
As, incense-fed, from Aphrodite's porch
Lifted, to beacon Mars.
Voluptuous, drowsy-throbbing mid the stars,
As, incense-fed, from Aphrodite's porch
Lifted, to beacon Mars.
Is it from songs and stories of the Past,
With names and scenes that make our planet fair,—
From Babylonian splendors, vague and vast,
And flushed Arabian air:—
With names and scenes that make our planet fair,—
From Babylonian splendors, vague and vast,
And flushed Arabian air:—
