Poems (Stoddard)/Mercedes
MERCEDES.
UNDER a sultry, yellow sky,On the yellow sand I lie;The crinkled vapors smite my brain,I smoulder in a fiery pain.
Above the crags the condor flies;He knows where the red gold lies,He knows where the diamonds shine;—If I knew, would she be mine?
Mercedes in her hammock swings;In her court a palm-tree flingsIts slender shadow on the ground,The fountain falls with silver sound.
Her lips are like this cactus cup;With my hand I crush it up;I tear its flaming leaves apart;—Would that I could tear her heart!
Last night a man was at her gate;In the hedge I lay in wait;I saw Mercedes meet him there,By the fireflies in her hair.
I waited till the break of day,Then I rose and stole away;But left my dagger in the gate;—Now she knows her lover's fate!