82
POEMS.
Still pious souls pray as Paphnutius prayed
For brother-souls in their own semblance made;
And slowly learn, with outcries and complaints,
That publicans and sinners may be saints!
For brother-souls in their own semblance made;
And slowly learn, with outcries and complaints,
That publicans and sinners may be saints!
NOON.
SWEET, delusive Noon,Which the morning climbs to find;
O moment sped too soon,
And morning left behind;
While pale gray hours descend
Fast on the farther slope,
Where a darkness marks the end
Of that day's work and hope.
Fast on the farther slope,
Where a darkness marks the end
Of that day's work and hope.
O Noon, if thou couldst stay!
Were there but spell to arrest
Thy magic moment,—to slay
Night on the fair sky's breast,
Were there but spell to arrest
Thy magic moment,—to slay
Night on the fair sky's breast,
Or make the morning haste,
Or the chilly evening tarry,
And the liquid light they waste
Give thee, O Noon, to carry!
Or the chilly evening tarry,
And the liquid light they waste
Give thee, O Noon, to carry!
O cruel, stinted drop,
In sapphire chalice so deep
That if million suns should stop
Its walls their light could keep!
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In sapphire chalice so deep
That if million suns should stop
Its walls their light could keep!
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