Page:The Blue Bird - Custance (1905).djvu/21

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
I have loved statues . . . and at night the cold
Mysterious moon behind a mask of gold—
Or veiled in silver veils—has seen my pride
Utterly broken—seen the dream denied
For which I pleaded—heedless that for me
The miracle of joy could never be . . .
As in old legends beautiful and strange,
When bright gods loved fair mortals born to die,
And the frail daughters of despair and change
Became the brides of immortality?

13