And amethyst, and ruby,—then unclose
Your eyelids on the stone where ye repose,
And from your broidered pillows lift your heads,
And rise upon your cold white marble beds;
And looking down on the warm rosy tints
Which checker, at your feet, the illumined flints,
Say, What is this? we are in bliss—forgiven—
Behold the pavement of the courts of heaven!
Or let it be on autumn-nights, when rain
Doth rustlingly above your heads complain
On the smooth leaden roof, and on the walls
Shedding her pensive light at intervals
The moon through the clere-story windows shines.
And the wind washes through the mountain-pines,—
Then, gazing up 'mid the dim pillars high,
The foliaged marble forest where ye lie,
Hush, ye will say, it is eternity!
This is the glimmering verge of heaven, and these
The columns of the heavenly palaces.
And in the sweeping of the wind your ear
The passage of the angels' wings will hear,
And on the lichen-crusted leads above
The rustle of the eternal rain of love.
A MODERN SAPPHO.
They are gone—all is still! Foolish heart, dost thou quiver?
