AT THE LYCEUM.HER eyes are brands that keep the angry heatOf fire that crawls and leaves an ashen path.The dust of this devouring flame she hathUpon her cheeks and eyelids. Fresh and sweetIn days that were, her sultry beauty nowIs pain transfigured, love’s impenitence,The memory of a maiden innocence,As a crown set upon a weary brow.She sits, and fain would listen, fain forget;She smiles, but with those tragic, waiting eyes,Those proud and piteous lips that hunger yetFor love’s fulfilment. Ah, when Landry cries“My heart is dead!” with what a wild regretHer own heart feels the throb that never dies!
HER eyes are brands that keep the angry heatOf fire that crawls and leaves an ashen path.The dust of this devouring flame she hathUpon her cheeks and eyelids. Fresh and sweetIn days that were, her sultry beauty nowIs pain transfigured, love’s impenitence,The memory of a maiden innocence,As a crown set upon a weary brow.
She sits, and fain would listen, fain forget;She smiles, but with those tragic, waiting eyes,Those proud and piteous lips that hunger yetFor love’s fulfilment. Ah, when Landry cries“My heart is dead!” with what a wild regretHer own heart feels the throb that never dies!