POSTHUMOUS POEMS
We know not, yet perchance His wide reply is near.
Ah, let no sloth delay,
No discord mar its way,
Keep wide the entrance for that Hope divine;
Truth never wanted swords,
Since with his swordlike words
Savonarola smote the Florentine.
Even here she is not weaponless, but waits
Silent at the palace gates,
Her wide eyes kindling eastward to the far sunshine.
When out of Naples came a tortured voice:
Whereat the whole earth shuddered, and forbade
The murderous smile on lying lips to fade;
The murderous heart in silence to rejoice;
She also smiled—no royal smile—as knowing
Some stains of sloth washed by the blood then flowing;
Their lives went out in darkness—not in vain;
Earth cannot hear, and sink to bloodless rest again.
And if indeed her waking strength shall prove
Worthy the dreams that passing lit her sleep,
Who then shall lift such eyes of triumph, who
Ah, let no sloth delay,
No discord mar its way,
Keep wide the entrance for that Hope divine;
Truth never wanted swords,
Since with his swordlike words
Savonarola smote the Florentine.
Even here she is not weaponless, but waits
Silent at the palace gates,
Her wide eyes kindling eastward to the far sunshine.
When out of Naples came a tortured voice:
Whereat the whole earth shuddered, and forbade
The murderous smile on lying lips to fade;
The murderous heart in silence to rejoice;
She also smiled—no royal smile—as knowing
Some stains of sloth washed by the blood then flowing;
Their lives went out in darkness—not in vain;
Earth cannot hear, and sink to bloodless rest again.
And if indeed her waking strength shall prove
Worthy the dreams that passing lit her sleep,
Who then shall lift such eyes of triumph, who
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