A PHIAL.
This precious bubble of the antique world,
As light as lifted foam, as frail as breath,
Endured when empires died a desperate death,
When heaven on earth, when tower on tower was hurled.
As light as lifted foam, as frail as breath,
Endured when empires died a desperate death,
When heaven on earth, when tower on tower was hurled.
Hues of a beetle's temporary wing
Have grown on this in centuries of slime;
Dials have told a rosary of time
For every nuance of this feeble thing.
Have grown on this in centuries of slime;
Dials have told a rosary of time
For every nuance of this feeble thing.
Were it devised at first for costly balm,
The distillation of a summer's fee,
To sweeten some "Ah sweet, I dote on thee,"
And over all there lies a common calm. . . .
The distillation of a summer's fee,
To sweeten some "Ah sweet, I dote on thee,"
And over all there lies a common calm. . . .
No more, no more the heavy branches drip
Another fragrance to the tangled moss,
Translucent insects flamed and hummed across;
The sleep they soothed is grown eternal sleep.
Another fragrance to the tangled moss,
Translucent insects flamed and hummed across;
The sleep they soothed is grown eternal sleep.
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