* * * * *

A shining, shimmering, gracious, golden day;
The sated summer's all-pervading hush;
Warm luscious tints, glowing in earth and sky.
On a low mossy bank, a little child,
His golden curls twined in the reedy grass,
Clutching within his tear-stained feverish hands
The yellow blossoms of the Celandine,
Sobs out his heart in passionate childish grief.




EURYDICE.


Oh come, Eurydice!
The Stygian deeps are past
Well-nigh; the light dawns fast.
Oh come, Eurydice!

The gods have heard my song!
My love's despairing cry
Filled hell with melody,--
And the gods heard my song.

I knew no life but thee;
Persephone was moved;
She, too, hath lived, hath loved;