Page:Poems of Emma Lazarus vol 2.djvu/60

Veiled, hooded, glided through the twilight streets,
A sable shadow. Prom the willow-grove,
Close by the Moldau's brink, beyond the bridge.
Her trace was lost 'Twas evening and mild May,
Air full of spring, skies perfect as a pearl;
Yet one who saw her pass amidst the shades
O’ the blue-gray branches swears a sudden flame.
As of miraculous lightning, thrilled through heaven.
One hour thereafter she reentered Prague,
Slid swiftly through the streets, as though borne on
By ankle-wings or floating on soft cloud.
Smiling no more, but with illumined eyes.
Transfigured brow, grave lips, and faltering limbs,
So came into the room where Baschi lay
Stretched 'twixt tall tapers lit at head and foot
She held in both hands leafy, flowerless plants,
Some she had fastened in her twisted hair.
Stuck others in her girdle, and from all
Issued a racy odor, pungentnsweet.
The living soul of Spring. Death's chamber seemed
As though clear sunshine and a singing bird
Therein had entered. Prom the precious herb
She poured into a golden bowl the sap,
Sparkhng like wine ; then with a soundless prayer,