Shall wake, and holy forms shall shine
On mountain peaks in light divine,
When mortals bid God's kingdom come

So turns the wheel of thy [keen] soul;
From birth to birth her ruling stars,
Swift Mercury and fiery Mars,
In ever changing orbits roll!

--Paris, May, 1880





Fragment


A jarring note, a chord amiss--
The music's sweeter after,
Like wrangling ended with a kiss,
Or tears, with silver laughter.

The high gods have no joys like these,
So sweet in human story;
No tempest rends their tranquil seas
Beyond the sunset glory.

The whirling wheels of Time and Fate