XVII
You’ve heard how after some great victory
The Cæsars triumphing came gayly home,
Red-robed, gold palm-embroiderèd—to Rome—
Gods like unto, with glory good to see,
On cars charioted of ivory,
Through gates triumphal, flower-up-built to dome,
While at their feet the masses moaning roam
And they, joy-drunk, cry:—“Io Triompe!”
Thus, Love, at life’s high noon enter my heart!
(Not like one monkish bred, cringing with fear,
Black clad, furtive of eye for dangers near,)
Come as the Cæsars came! Be that your part,
Bright robed, triumphant, bold for victory,
And o’er my conquered soul cry—“Triompe!”