2. FRAGMENT.
I come not, nightingales, to join your lay,
Nor, rose, with thee, to blossom by the way,
Whereon there vanish thousands with their woe,
Borne on for ever by gale.
Nor to arise, O sun, amid thy glow,
That sheds in equal measure peace and light,
If souls grow warm or perish in the fight,—
But, O mankind, with thee to wail!
1. CENTAUR AND WOMAN.
The starlight wanes; with gentle warmth bedight,
The plain afar is smooth and endless shed
To where,—like to a stream of fiery red—
'Neath greenish skies a blood-hued streak gleams bright.
Calm. . . On the dew, hoofs' sudden, thunderous flight;
A shrill lament, that echoless has fled,
A horse's back, white arms in mist outspread,
And in the wind, a flood of tresses light.
O'er the fair head and body white as snow,
Whose girth a pair of swarthy arms enlace,
Another head, dark, bearded, is bent low.
