Still burned the streets we had left behind,
Where, tortured and broken down,
The millions scarcely hoped to find
A moment's escape from the maddening grind
In the terrible furnace of town.
And, blotting out cities, the twilight fell
With a single star at seven...
The sea grew wider beneath the spell
And the moon, like a broken silver shell,
Lay on the shore of heaven.
THE SHELL TO THE PEARL
Grow not so fast, glow not so warm;
Thy hidden fires burn too wild—
Too perfect is thy rounded form;
Cling close, my child.
Be yet my babe, rest quiet when
The great sea-urges beat and call;
Too soon wilt thou be ripe for men,
The world and all.
Thy shining skin, thy silken sheath,
These will undo thee all too soon;
And men will fight for thee beneath
Some paler moon...
Aye, thou my own, my undefiled,
Shalt make the lewd world dream and start,
When they have seized and torn thee, child,
Out of my heart.
With velvets shall thy bed be laid;
A royal captive thou shalt be—
And oh, what prices will be paid
To ransom thee.
Thy path shall be a track of gold,
Of lust, of death and countless crimes;
Bought by a sensual world—and sold
A thousand times...