A PRINCESS OF EGYPT
The sphinx-shaped crown now fallen to one side
Reveals her stiffened locks of blue-black hair.
Beneath her gilded mask the semblance fair
Of girlhood to a leaf-brown husk hath dried.
The scarab beads that row on row might hide
Her slender throat, lie scattered here and there
Turquoise and milky jade. Her breast doth bear
The scarlet emblem of great Isis' pride.
These jars of porphyry and agate tell
How gracious and how fragrant was the youth
Of what seems a frail horror to the sight—
Of precious oils and essences they smell,
Citron and myrrh—yea, she had "Oyntementes smoothe
Of Lilyes in a Vase of Chrysolite."
Reveals her stiffened locks of blue-black hair.
Beneath her gilded mask the semblance fair
Of girlhood to a leaf-brown husk hath dried.
The scarab beads that row on row might hide
Her slender throat, lie scattered here and there
Turquoise and milky jade. Her breast doth bear
The scarlet emblem of great Isis' pride.
These jars of porphyry and agate tell
How gracious and how fragrant was the youth
Of what seems a frail horror to the sight—
Of precious oils and essences they smell,
Citron and myrrh—yea, she had "Oyntementes smoothe
Of Lilyes in a Vase of Chrysolite."
THE SEA ANEMONE
To what faint-rhythmed cadence heard of none,
What measured harmonies of limpid sound
Are swayed the fragile rays that ring thee round
Like the mist-halo of a vanquished sun?
Milk-opal, crystal, cloudy selenite,
Scarce through the veil of hueless water seen
Against the lucent mosses, but with keen
And sudden poignancies of frosty light.
Of what vast wonder is thy beauty part?
Of sunless gardens where the pendant fruits
Gleam through the filmy dusk like the vague sphere
Of the midday moon, of flowers that appear
Bubbles held by a dream of stems and roots?
Or what the secret of thy dim sea-heart?
What measured harmonies of limpid sound
Are swayed the fragile rays that ring thee round
Like the mist-halo of a vanquished sun?
Milk-opal, crystal, cloudy selenite,
Scarce through the veil of hueless water seen
Against the lucent mosses, but with keen
And sudden poignancies of frosty light.
Of what vast wonder is thy beauty part?
Of sunless gardens where the pendant fruits
Gleam through the filmy dusk like the vague sphere
Of the midday moon, of flowers that appear
Bubbles held by a dream of stems and roots?
Or what the secret of thy dim sea-heart?
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