THE PALACE OF ART.
85
LVII.
Lest she should fail and perish utterly,
God, before whom ever lie bare
The abysmal deeps of Personality,
Plagued her with sore despair.
Lest she should fail and perish utterly,
God, before whom ever lie bare
The abysmal deeps of Personality,
Plagued her with sore despair.
LVIII.
When she would think, wheree'er she turned her sight
The airy hand confusion wrought,
Wrote "Mene, mene," and divided quite
The kingdom of her thought.
When she would think, wheree'er she turned her sight
The airy hand confusion wrought,
Wrote "Mene, mene," and divided quite
The kingdom of her thought.
LIX.
Deep dread and loathing of her solitude
Fell on her, from which mood was born
Scorn of herself; again, from out that mood
Laughter at her selfscorn.
Deep dread and loathing of her solitude
Fell on her, from which mood was born
Scorn of herself; again, from out that mood
Laughter at her selfscorn.
LX.
"Who hath drawn dry the fountains of delight,
That from my deep heart everywhere
Moved in my blood and dwelt, as power and might
Abode in Sampson's hair?
"Who hath drawn dry the fountains of delight,
That from my deep heart everywhere
Moved in my blood and dwelt, as power and might
Abode in Sampson's hair?
