The herald., 1896-06-28
THE DEAD NYMPH

| Flora, the nymph. is dead.
She OF the down-dropt head;
She of the eye half hid
Under its fringed lid;
| She of the lily throat
Ihat never again shall float
Like lily over her breast,
Never snail seem to rest
Like the lilies that fall and rise
q er Gains rejecting the skies,
AS her bosom-tree from ieaven
Ot earth--refected heaven.
Never again shall he,
The dreamer, the child of song.
Gliding at eve along
The Stlil lake s margent, see
AS he dips his shallop's oars
| Close by the mirrored shores,
Her shddoWY form of grace
Sip from its hiding place
In the gloom of sheltering ferns
Into an open space
Where the moons white radiance burns
Nor, as the fawn that turns
Its delicate head TO sniff
An instant longer the scent
With the sweet wood-zephyrs blent,
Ere it bounds away like a Whiff
OF wind-bloWn mist thro' the trees,
Win she wait for him while the breeze
Plays with the glistening strands
or her hair, as she curves her hands
over her Questioning eyes,
LoVe-lit with shy surprise.
Never again with Lutte
And loVe-song sweetly sung
VIII he lure her from among
The forest cloisters mute:
Nor from the shadowy shore,
With songs, will he row her DER
The cool, moon -Whitened calm
Unto the sheltered cOVes
/ O'erhung by blossoming groves
or the shell-glrt isles of balm;
Not evermore again
| VIII she visit the world of men;
Nor is there any Staye
Can call her back from the grave.
Nor ever a madrigal
Can pass her beneath the pail
Unto the pain and strife
Which living men call Life.
Yet in his dreams and songs.
She is not dead to him;
Not all in vain he longs
For her presence in the dim
Green gloomS of the ancient wood;
For heaven has found it good
To turn forever the sting
OF sorrow from hearts that sing.
And all day long he treads
The forests 5 whispering asleS:
And the checkered sunlight sheds
It's glow Ger the face that smiles
Smiles as he softly strays
Under the leafy haze
Whispering, She is here.
Death could not wound my dear.
Listen, you say thrush
With wild song breaks the hush;
! say it is she-my love
Singing in yonder grove.
Tis she! | say, for she said.
one night when her fair, bright head
Lay on my breast, My own,
Ii ever thOu TT lett alone,
Think not that thy love is dead,
But look till thou find st the red
Wild rose, and say, "1ris her cheek"
Then kiss ii close, and seek
" here the clear dew never dries
Flue violets for mine eyes:
Then. would'st thou kiss my lips,
The bee will lead where he sips;
Sapphres will clasp my throat
Where water lilies float:
MY hands will be the air
Carossng thy forehead fair.
And oft. when the raindrops beat
The leaves, thou will hear my feet
Leading the murmuring shower
Away from thy sylvan bower.
Thus did she speak. and then
Faded from earthly ken
out of the arms that clasped
Her form. and my hands but grasped
This robe upon either side.
My arms were locked on the breast
That her golden hair had prest,
and thus did lose my bride.'
Still through the haunted aisles
or the wood. and at its edge
Where the rippes stir the sedge,
This dreamer walks. and smiles
on the violet and the rose,
And the lily's calm repose;
And you who have heard his song,
Aud the fantasies which throng
It's burden may know with me
That the maiden was Purity,
And the lover q sulled soul
That saw. in the scented flowers,
Emblems of halloWed hours
OF the innocence that stole
Unto it's God when Sin
The Dark Guest-entered in!
Charles Henry Luders.