FIERCE flames fell on your brow upturned To meet th' eternal light; Immortal fire from heaven came down, To make your dark eyes bright; Your cruel limbs, your shapely form, The high gods wrought their best; They stamped with kisses soft and sweet Their image on your breast. They formed your subtle nerves and veins, And bade your pulses swell; They filled your breathing flesh with life, And shaped your spirit well. Then down the changing isles of time With solemn chant they came, And to the sound of silver harps They syllabled your name. Seven golden flames the high gods wrought And bound them in your hair, And all the heavens sent songs to you, And all the earth sweet prayer: But lo! one temple there was found Where no soft lights were shed; That lonely temple was my heart— The dwelling of the dead. |