FRAIL BEAUTY
O molten dewdrop, trembling in the light
Of dawn, and clinging to the brookmint-blade—
A pendent opal on a breast of jade—
How came your splendor, so limpid and so bright?
How your clear symmetry? And what weird sleight
Of art suffused you with each rainbow-shade,
Captured your evanescent hour, and made
A quivering soul from fire and mist and night?
Of dawn, and clinging to the brookmint-blade—
A pendent opal on a breast of jade—
How came your splendor, so limpid and so bright?
How your clear symmetry? And what weird sleight
Of art suffused you with each rainbow-shade,
Captured your evanescent hour, and made
A quivering soul from fire and mist and night?
Fleeting your span! Yet I shall be content
To let the Cosmic Power that built in you
Such frail wet beauty, such luster opulent,
And such immortal life as lies in dew,
Fashion the fragile moment of my soul
In what frail shape It deems a perfect whole.
To let the Cosmic Power that built in you
Such frail wet beauty, such luster opulent,
And such immortal life as lies in dew,
Fashion the fragile moment of my soul
In what frail shape It deems a perfect whole.
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