File:Library of the world's best literature, ancient and modern (1896) (14579498807).jpg

Identifier: worldsbestlitera24warn (find matches)
Title: Library of the world's best literature, ancient and modern
Year: 1896 (1890s)
Authors:
Subjects:
Publisher: N.Y.
Contributing Library: University of California Libraries
Digitizing Sponsor: MSN

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bracelets,—They bar with a purple stainMy arms; turn over my pillows,—They are hot where I have lain;Open the lattice wider, A gauze on my bosom throw,And let me inhale the odorsThat over the garden blow. I dreamed I was with iny Antony, And in his arms I lay;Ah, me! the vision has vanished — The music has died away.The flame and the perfume have perished, As this spiced aromatic pastilleThat wound the blue smoke of its odor Is now but an ashy hill. Scatter upon me rose-leaves,— They cool me after my sleep;And with sandal odors fan me Till into my veins they creep;Reach down the lute, and play me A melancholy tune,To rhyme with the dream that has vanished, And the slumbering afternoon. There, drowsing in golden sunlight, Loiters the slow smooth NileThrough slender papyri, that cover The wary crocodile.The lotus lolls on the water. And opens its heart of gold.And over its broad leaf-pavement Never a ripple is rolled.The twilight breeze is too lazy Those feathery palms to wave,
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t-^ ^ WILLIAM WETMORE STORY I4063 And yon little cloud is as motionlessAs a stone above a grave. Ah. me! this lifeless nature (Oppresses my heart and brain!Oh! for a storm and thunder — For lightning and wild fierce rain!Fling down that lute — I hate it! Take rather his buckler and sword,And crash them and clash them together Till this sleeping world is stirred. Hark! to my Indian beauty,— My cockatoo, creamy white.With roses under his feathers,— That flashes across the light.Look! listen! as backward and forward To his hoop of gold he clings,How he trembles, with crest uplifted. And shrieks as he madly swings!O cockatoo, shriek for Antony! Cry, Come, my love, come home!*Shriek, Antony! Antony! Antony! Till he hears you even in Rome. There — leave me, and take from my chamber That stupid little gazelle.With its bright black eyes so meaningless, And its silly tinkling bell!Take him, — my nerves he vexes. The thing without blood or brain,—Or by the body of Isis, Ill snap h

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