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WILLIAM A. DRAKE
627

That holdeth occult sway o'er common woe,
And all the infinite vanity of all things!


ASPASIA

Thy image to my thoughts returns again,
Aspasia. Sometimes I see it gleam
On me from other faces in the crowd;
Or in the lonely fields, beneath the sun
Or silent stars, touched into startling life
By Nature's harmonies, and stirring still
My spirit deeply, on my heart there bursts
The splendid vision of my faithless love.
O how adored, ye gods! in what a store
My torment, my delight! Nor can I breathe
The perfumes o'er the flowery fields diffused,
Nor scent the gardens by the city streets,
That I recall thee not, as on that day
When in thy home, in luxury embowered
Amid the fragrant blossoms of the spring,
Arrayed all in the dusky violet's hues,
Thy form angelic to my sight was given;
And it lazy languidly upon the furs,
Surrounded by an air voluptuous;
And thou, beguiler skillful, didst bestow
Upon thy little children's curving lips
Fervent, resounding kisses, revealing thus
Thy snowy neck; and with thy fragile hands
Pressed them, all innocent, close to thy breast,
Veiled and desired. New heaven, new earth then broke
Upon my soul, like to a ray divine.
Thus in my side, not unresisting quite,
Thy arm thrust deep the arrow that I bore
Sorely lamenting, but all helplessly,
Till twice the sun its annual course had spaced.

A ray divine unto my dazzled thought
Appeared thy beauty, Lady. Even so
Doth beauty and harmonious accords
Each ope the mystery of the unknown
Elysium, and he who loves is filled
With phantom ecstasy of his sweet dream.