Yet I had seen her go, And sight no more could hold of Beauty’s wine. I had seen the fair face flush, As the soft curtains of the tinted west, Are drawn before the temple of the Night, When the day-worn Sun has passed within; Had seen the little body, whitely gowned, Folded within its nest; Had caught the last light kiss Before the lips lay still; And I had looked into the cool grey deep, Where Sleep received the rose-leaf soul of her, And bore it out upon her gentle waters. Into the night I passed, Where on the mellow bosom of the west, Floated the flame-lit shell of Hesperus; And as I stayed with hallowed breath, The soul of fire fell over the rim of night: And then I knew the soul of her I loved, Had heard the last clear call, The low Elysian chant of Hesperus, And loving me had borne the love I gave, Out and beyond and over all the ends of earth, And where the altar flame of Venus burned, Had laid the gift and breathed her Childhood’s prayer. _The Poetry Journal_ _Robert Alden Sanborn_ A ROMAN DOLL (IN A MUSEUM) How an image of paint and wood Leaped to her life with a love’s control, Struck the chords of her motherhood, Passionate little mother-soul! Fair to her sight were the stolid eyes, Dear to her toil the robes empearled. She crooned it the ancient lullabies, She gathered it close from the outer world. They watched together, as Nero’s pyres Fed the haze of a hundred fires. _Me in her fresh young arms she bore. See, I am small, Only a doll. But I keep her kiss forevermore._ Long and lonely the toy has lain. One by one into time’s abyss Years have dropped as the drops of rain. Yet the cycles have left us this! O red-lipped mother, O mother sweet, Today a sister has heard you call, Your heart is beating in her heart-beat. I saw her weep o’er the crumbling doll. She knew, she knew! You had lived and smiled! You had loved your dream, little Roman child! _Me in her fresh young arms she bore. See, I am small, Only a doll. But I keep her kiss forevermore._ _The Poetry Journal_ _Agnes Lee_ SAPPHO