38
THE VOW OF THE PEACOCK.
But o'er those painted plumes are cast
So many shadows from the past,—
Those gorgeous ships which wont to bring
The wealth of Ophir to that king
Who ransacked earth and swept the main,
To find their pleasures were in vain.
Or from those purple feathers peep
Faces which they have lulled to sleep,
Cheeks of pale beauty, and dark eyes
Wherein their eastern heaven lies;
But tearful in their sleep, with dreams
Of unforgotten mountain streams.
Ah, childhood! lovely art thou, seen
When care and passion intervene,
And thou dost smile as smiles a star,—
Calm, happy, undisturbed, but far.
