Viewing page 25 of 27

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

EPITHALAMIUM.

Slim feet that nestle in my hand like terns --
Long lovely feet that lightly skim the shore
And cleave the waves translucent, evermore
A-tiptoe like the nymphs on Grecian urns; --

Form, white as Galatea's, ere she turns
From marble to the warm flesh azured o'er
With delicate veins, that never will feel more
Snow of Pentelicus on life that burns; --

Moving to unseen music, hands that fold
Like wings of Cherubim, white upon white,
In Lippo's frescoes, over robes of gold; --

Come to me, wingèd birds, form clothed in light,
Soul of my beautiful love! O let me fold
Your argent sweetness to my heart this night!

Achadd, Sc.
Author of "Hieronymus Rides" (Macmillan)
The Candid Adventurer" (Houghton Mifflin)