And in her place has come another,
With troubled smile and brooding eyes,
Insatiate of sacrifice
And wholly, utterly your mother.
To Allen
Beauty, the dream that I have dreamed so much
Comes true in your quick smile,
And on your cheek I see her touch
And sometimes in your eyes a while
Immortal beauty's fleeting image lies.
Dear child, in whose veins beat
The marching centuries of lovers' feet,
All those brave, ardent ghosts in you arise—
The souls who, loving beauty, gave you birth,
With a chain of passion binding beauty to earth,
A captured dream—these souls breathe with your breath
Living again in beauty that knows no death.
To Helen
Lie still in my arms, little four-years-old,
Little bud that glows
With more beauty and passion than it can hold,
Little flaming rose,
The spring's red blossoms, when winter lies deep
On a wind-swept world
Of tossing branches, lie safely asleep
In brown buds curled.
They wake—and the wind strips their petals away
And spills them afar—
Can I keep you from blooming, whatever I say,
Wild bud that you are!
The Immortal
Child of a love denied, a dream unborn,
Spirit more brave
Than passion's unfulfilment, wiser than fate—
Nor breast nor grave
As cradle you have known,—
I mourn
That my soul knows its own
Too late!
A soul's half-breath,
Passion's unremembered dream,
Perfume without a vase,
Intangible you seem
To life or death.