A LEGEND OF THE DOVE
Soft from the linden's bough, Unmoved against the tranquil afternoon, Eve's dove laments her now: "Ah, gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon?"
That yearning in his voice Told not to Paradise a sorrow's tale: As other birds rejoice He sang, a brother to the nightingale.
By twilight on her breast He saw the flower sleep, the star awake; And calling her from rest, Made all the dawn melodious for her sake.
And then the Tempter's breath, The sword of exile and the mortal chain— The heritage of death That gave her heart to dust, his own to pain ...
In Eden desolate The seraph heard his lonely music swoon, As now, reiterate; "Ah gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon?"
George Sterling
AT THE GRAND CAÑON
Thou settest splendors in my sight, O Lord! It seems as tho' a deep-hued sunset falls Forever on these Cyclopean walls— These battlements where Titan hosts have warred, And hewn the world with devastating sword, And shook with trumpets the eternal halls Where seraphim lay hid by bloody palls And only Hell and Silence were adored.