For sorceries of the summer night
The souls of men unbar
When Venus draws the whole world's heart
At wheels of her bright car—
The chariot that our eyes behold
And call the Evening Star.
The souls of men unbar
When Venus draws the whole world's heart
At wheels of her bright car—
The chariot that our eyes behold
And call the Evening Star.
POWER'S GREEK SLAVE
WITHIN the vaulted rooms where soft lights fell
I passed them by—each gilded frame where shone
A pictured face, sea scene or shaded wood
From master brush; and so at last I stood
Within a silent niche, shut off alone,
Before that wonder wrought from Parian stone—
The Greek Slave in her pallid solitude.
Her haunting eyes looked through my every mood;
And there I questioned with myself in muttered tone
Her story sad and strange—her unknown life
Ere galling chains had bitten to the blood
The supple, rounded wrists of her.
Came she
From where o'er Thessaly the white-clouds go?
Did Attic stars her first awakening see?
Or did the blue Laconian sky bend low,
So low, to smile into her eyes it left
A purple shadow 'neath the lids of snow?
I passed them by—each gilded frame where shone
A pictured face, sea scene or shaded wood
From master brush; and so at last I stood
Within a silent niche, shut off alone,
Before that wonder wrought from Parian stone—
The Greek Slave in her pallid solitude.
Her haunting eyes looked through my every mood;
And there I questioned with myself in muttered tone
Her story sad and strange—her unknown life
Ere galling chains had bitten to the blood
The supple, rounded wrists of her.
Came she
From where o'er Thessaly the white-clouds go?
Did Attic stars her first awakening see?
Or did the blue Laconian sky bend low,
So low, to smile into her eyes it left
A purple shadow 'neath the lids of snow?
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