Song of the wave / George Cabot Lodge [electronic text]

XXXI

I DREAMED of Thee, O Wonder, with the sheen Amid thy temples of a sanguine gem, And warm, between thy garment's purple hem, The languid passions of that Persian Queen Who sate with she-slaves in her quiet gloom, And felt the sob of fountains and the keen Perfume of lotus, and the murmurous lean Of windy flowers, and life's impending doom. O dream of dazzled senses and the pain Of conscious happiness! I woke beneathThe dark maturing dawn, while earth again Renewed its patient toil for human sake, And felt the tender calm of such a death As thine, O Wonder, dream whose death it was to wake.