Poems
Only a stillness subtle, infinite,
Was lifted as the trailing wing of night
Lifts, spreads and fades at quivered plumes of day.
Was lifted as the trailing wing of night
Lifts, spreads and fades at quivered plumes of day.
But:—Once towards the Court a woman sped
In trailing robes of clinging poppy-red,
And poppy garlands twined and interwed,
Deep-eyed and sorrowful with sombre hair
Sweeping her shoulders like a living thing;
And for a moment's folly, even the king
Felt Love's forbidden breath; she was so fair.
In trailing robes of clinging poppy-red,
And poppy garlands twined and interwed,
Deep-eyed and sorrowful with sombre hair
Sweeping her shoulders like a living thing;
And for a moment's folly, even the king
Felt Love's forbidden breath; she was so fair.
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