Page:An Anthology of Modern Bohemian Poetry.pdf/44

I am the blossom of thy blood, grown chill and dead,
That budded from the moisture of thine eyes, and grew,
Upon my lips thy life's sharp savour thou didst shed,
And from thy childhood sadness to my soul withdrew.

And when 'mid nightly calm, green midnight shimmers clear,
Thou risest from the grave, and with my couch art blent,
And in my breath, the rhythm of thy breath I hear,
And quickened by my voice's wave, thou dost lament.

Into my veins the warmth is from thy frame delivered,
The gloomy lustre of thine eyes in mine is poured;
The mystic heat of faith, 'neath which thy spirit quivered,
Into my soul in glowing, blood-red fire has soared.

And mine is now the gloomy path where once thou paced,
Of fragrances, hues, blossoms, light, my day is bare;