MODERN BOHEMIAN POETRY
51
Jutting from quickening suns!
Worlds that are kindling,
Worlds that are quenching
Whirlpools of justice!
And all the suns
Round the eternal sun are revolving,
Ne'er to be seen,
The glittering, tarrying grave,
The mystery of the new cosmos
Concealing,
In silence!
On lips that with love are aquiver,
As in a wind that is fragrant,
Mighty and quickening,
Over the oceans
Your song is resounding, O mistress,
Unto the new-born.
Slumber-song of the millions,
Thro' all the universe quivering,
Amid whose rhythmical cadence
Worlds in their sorrow are swaying,
Cradles of spirits.
"The Hands".
