ONE OF CLEOPATRA'S NIGHTS[1]
F. S. FAUST
Beneath the miser shelter of the bush
Sat Creon all that day and heard the purr
Of Nile's dun water, till he half forgot
The hunters beating hard upon his track,
And musing drowsy there, drew from the quiver
That single arrow whose companions served
To strike down guardians of his last estate
Of slavery and loose him on the path
Of freedom; whither it led he could not know,
But felt here was a pleasant milestone by
The way. And dreaming there he took his knife,
Yet reddened at the hilt, and notched along
The staunch white shaft a curious lettering:
"I love you"—for it came into his mind
That this last shaft would answer life or death
To the importunate questionings of fate.
Now he looked up and saw the sun half veiled
In the earth's lovely shadows; hearing next
A little growing murmur, turned and saw
A great barge rowed by forty cedarn oars
Trail its imperial draperies up the tide.
And the prow pushed a little golden wave
Ever before it, and the wave lapsed ever down
- ↑ Suggested by the story by Theophile Gautier
