Oh ! it is sad to see the pedestal

Left lonely ! and in dream I seem to hear
Prophetic voices whisper in my ear

The lonely and despairing end of all.
Oh ! it is sad ! And thou, hast thou not found
One heart-throb for the pity, though thine eye
Lights at the gold and purple butterfly

Brightening the littered leaves upon the ground ?



75



A CLYMENE.
MYSTICAL strains unheard,
A song without a word.
Dearest, because thine eyes,
Pale as the sicies,

Because thy voice, remote
As the far clouds that float
Veiling for me the whole
Heaven of the soul.
Because the stately scent
Of thy swan's whiteness, blent
With the white lily's bloom
Of thy perfume,

Ah ! because thy dear love,
The music breathed above
By angels halo-crowned,
Odour and sound.
Hath, in my subtle heart,
With some mysterious art
Transposed thy harmony,
So let it be !



76



FROM ROMANCES SANS PAROLES.
TEARS in my heart that weeps,
Like the rain upon the town.
What drowsy languor steeps
In tears my heart that weeps ?

O sweet sound of the rain
On earth and on the roofs !
For a heart's weary pain
O the song of the rain !

Vain tears, vain tears, my heart !
What, none hath done thee wrong ?
Tears without reason start.
From my disheartened heart.
This is the weariest woe,
O heart, of love and hate
Too weary, not to know
Why thou hast all this woe.
77



MOODS AND MEMORIES.
CITY NIGHTS.
I. In the Train.
THE train through the night of the town,
Through a blackness broken in twain
By the sudden finger of streets ;
Lights, red, yellow, and brown,
From curtain and window-pane.
The flashing eyes of the streets.
