{"1": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2594", "width": "1659", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0001.jp2"}, "2": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS.\\nChap. Copyright No,\\nShelf_-..S:SL.C5\\nUNITED STATES OF AMERICA.", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0002.jp2"}, "3": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0003.jp2"}, "4": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0004.jp2"}, "5": {"fulltext": "CITHARA MEA", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0005.jp2"}, "6": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0006.jp2"}, "7": {"fulltext": "CITHARA MEA\\nPoems\\nREV. P\\nAUTHOR OF GEOFFREY AUSTIN, STUDENT\\nTHE TRIUMPH OF FAILURE\\nMY NEW CURATE, ETC.\\nOaia, TTOTva 6ewv,\\nSaia, S a Kara yav\\nXpvcreav Trrepvya (pepeis.\\nO holy, venerable goddess, holy, who frailest thy golden pinion\\nalong the earth. Eurip. Bacch. 370\\nExurge, psalterium et cithara e.xurgam diluculo. Ps. cvii. 2\\nBOSTON\\nMARLIER, CALLANAN, COMPANY\\n1900", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0007.jp2"}, "8": {"fulltext": "80117\\n3( 14()\\nI_ibi-\u00c2\u00ab*if y of Congress\\nTwo Copies REceiytD\\nAUG 18 ]900\\nCopyright entry\\nSECOND COPY.\\nDelivered to\\nORDER DIVISION,\\nSEP 21 1900\\nCopyright, I JUU\\nBy Rev. P, A. Sheehan\\nAll rights reserved\\nJUaAjM/\\nPrinted at Boston, U. S. A.", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0008.jp2"}, "9": {"fulltext": "CONTENTS\\nThe Hidden Page\\nI. I poured the healing waters on the head 3\\nII. We know Thou rt round about us that tliis\\nair 4\\nIII. We hear the wild complaints of querulous\\nwinds 5\\nIV. And I behold Thee; but, oh it is so dark 6\\nV. Who was the sad, despairful scribe who wrote 7\\nVI. On the vast beach of Time are careless strown 8\\nVII. I heard a sound of weeping in the night g\\nVIII. For, what is space but one vast, black abyss 10\\nIX. I called unto my sleeping gods, and said 11\\nX. I ploughed through wastes of faded palimp-\\nsests 12\\nXI. And yet such dreams but vex the ethereal\\nsense 13\\nXII. And, lo! the tiny camera tries to cast 14\\nXIII. What then, O Pilgrim of the uight, O Soul 15\\nXIV. An empty catafalque the tapers burned 16\\nXV. Then a great silence fell, and all was still 17\\nV", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0009.jp2"}, "10": {"fulltext": "Contents\\nThe Revealed: Page\\nI. Now, I ve proclaimed a war with lusty death 21\\nII. I ve thed of J itans heaping thought on\\nthought 22\\nIII. At last, I looked into my soul, and cried 23\\nIV. Beyond the vault of logic, and the flight 24\\nV. Yet, Faith must lead thee where the Fancy\\nfails 25\\nVI. There poise thee on thy steady wing, my\\nsoul 26\\nVII. Thou too ambitious one, return return!. 27\\nVIII. Then, where s the mighty Heaven which\\nDante feigned? 28\\nIX. I saw a spirit floating above God 29\\nX. And yet we look upon Him, as of old 30\\nXI. Where a wan water stares unto the sky 31\\nXII. I placed my Poet against your scientist 32\\nXIII. And I, as one blindfolded from his birth 33\\nXIV. And one, in muffled tones, as in a mist 34\\nXV. And I alone, as in a theatre vast 35\\nA Matin-Song 39\\nThe Dreaded Dawn 43\\nA Vesperal 49\\nThe Soul-Bell 55\\nApotheosis 59\\nvi", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0010.jp2"}, "11": {"fulltext": "Contents\\nA Nocturne Page\\nI. Tearless, but with awe-stricken eyes she\\nstood 65\\nII, Then sleep fled far; for as the rushing tide 66\\nIII. And did I know that form and that face 66\\nIV. How long ago Ah, well, just hark and count 67\\nV. Now I was reverent, for I pitied her 68\\nVI. But if to-day 1 was so calm and reverent 68\\nVII. And if thy raised forefinger threatens fate 69\\nVIII. And yet If thou didst know what sad por-\\ntent 70\\nIX. Curious, but unconcerned, I 11 daily watch 70\\nX. I wonder shall this dawn-lit vision rise 71\\nXI. I fear these words would mar the tranquil\\nbliss 72\\nXII. Then whither shall I turn from this dark\\nFate? 72\\nQuestionings 77\\nWhat Ary Scheffer painted 83\\nThe Dumb shall speak 91\\nThe Magician, Death 95\\nThe Soul s Farewell loi\\nMyths and Legends:\\nSentan the Culdee in\\nGachla the Druidess 131\\nvii", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0011.jp2"}, "12": {"fulltext": "Contents\\nMiscellanea Page\\nHymn to Spring 157\\nIn the Mart 163\\nThe Lascars 171\\nSpirit-Voices 177\\nMy Rose 1S3\\nBe hushed, ye Bells 187\\nTristesse 191\\nvSwallows of Allah 195\\nCosette 201\\nThalassal O Thalassa 205\\nAbove the Bridge 211\\nValete Camoenas 215\\nA Prophecy 219\\nSonnets\\nA Thunderstorm at Bingen 225\\nAt the Rhine-Falls (Schaffhausen) 226\\nAn Organ-Recital (Lucerne) 227\\nThe Mer-de-Glace 22S\\nThe Vox Humana 229\\nTo S. M. S 230\\nThe Lamp of the Sanctuary 231\\nThe Sonnet 232\\nThirza 235\\nVIU", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0012.jp2"}, "13": {"fulltext": "THE HIDDEN", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0013.jp2"}, "14": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2500", "width": "1627", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0014.jp2"}, "15": {"fulltext": "CITHARA MEA\\nTHE HIDDEN\\nI\\nI POURED the healing waters on the head\\nOf a young child, who shuddered neath\\nthe weight\\nAnd stress of life and then I saw the dead\\nStare upwards from their tabernacles desolate.\\nI do not like this insolence of Death\\nThey have no right to mock at us, who bear\\nLife s burden, and the heaving of hot breath,\\nThey who have cast the burden and the care.\\nBut, oh, dear God what is it all? This dream\\nThat in our slumbers shifts and alternates\\nScene after scene on canvases that teem\\nWith figures wrought by all the cunning fates,\\n3", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0015.jp2"}, "16": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWho, from the awful silences of skies,\\nThe still more awful silences of graves,\\nWeave in their shadowy looms our destinies,\\nUntroubled by the tranquil Will that saves\\nThe dreamers of the sunset and the dark.\\nOh for one flash of Thy resplendent Face\\nOh for one whisper of Thy voice to mark\\nAssurance of Thy presence and Thy grace\\nII\\nWe know Thou rt round about us that this air\\nWith all Thy thought-waves heaves and pal-\\npitates\\nThat Thy most sacred presence, and most fair,\\nBeholds the evolution of our fates.\\nBut our vain senses vex us with their cry.\\nImportunate gainst whims of blinded chance,\\nAnd the wide wings of reason ache to fly.\\nUnhappy from their dread exorbitance\\nThe dread dissatisfaction Thou hast wrought\\nInto the folds of brain, the sheathed soul;\\nFor all the calm and gentle gods of thought\\nStruggle for freedom from the base control\\n4", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0016.jp2"}, "17": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nOf time, and sense, and space (with its vast walls\\nThat echo not the spirit s yearnings infinite),\\nWardens of iron in God s lordly halls,\\nWho check the daring Titan s aerial flight,\\nAnd cry Thus far, no farther shalt thou come\\nWithin the Shechinah, the presence cloud\\nOnly the High-Priest, Faith, sightless, dumb.\\nShall lift the veil unwrap the secret shroud.\\nIll\\nWe hear the wild complaints of querulous winds,\\nSeeking Thee o er the mountain and the mere,\\nWe watch the ponderous thunder wave that grinds\\nThe earth in questings, impotent and drear.\\nWe see the childlike helplessness of earth,\\nIts leaves and buds that grope in vain for Thee,\\nFor Thee, the Father of an abandoned birth,\\nWondering and weak for its own mystery.\\nAnd the stripped, naked forests of the fall\\nLift vainly to the sky their leprous arms,\\nLazarlike, pitiful, till Thy spring recall\\nThe spirit dead neath winter s wizard charms.\\n5", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0017.jp2"}, "18": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nBut mostly, he, thy manchild, cries to Thee,\\nHe needs Thee in the storm and the shower\\nHe clamors for Thy keys of mystery,\\nAnd frets for the subsidence of Thy power.\\nWhere art Thou hidden? Whence Thy dread\\neclipse?\\nThy children are grown covetous of Thee\\nThey clamor for Thy full apocalypse,\\nThy sail of light athwart our sullen sea.\\nIV\\nAnd I behold Thee but, oh it is so dark,\\nI seem as one of blessed sense bereft\\nWhat touches Thy strong right hand I remark,\\nI see not what encompasses Thy left.\\nThine awful eyebrows shadow all my path,\\nQuestioning and challenging the sons of men,\\nAs Thou would st reap of life an aftermath.\\nHarvesting Death to sow life s seeds again.\\nI walk among the shadows, and am hid\\nIn Thy vast gloom of glory cast apace\\nI lift mine weary eyes as Love doth bid,\\nAnd lo am lost in hiddenness of Thy Face.\\n6", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0018.jp2"}, "19": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nAV hy wilt Thou always blind us with Thy noon?\\nOr make us stagger against walls of night?\\nWhy not the pale, meek lustre of the moon?\\nOr pensiveness empurpled of twilight\\nLead us, and light us, O Thou Lord of Light\\nLo in the valleys how we pause and grope\\nShall we not see Thee from th embattled height,\\nWhere Faith hath fields of freedom, Love hath\\nscope\\nWho was the sad, despairful scribe who wrote\\nA cry, a struggle, silence this man s life?\\nA cry at birth, a struggle for a mote.\\nAnd then night s silence swooping on the strife.\\nA gleam of pallid sunshine and a mist\\nOf green; and then the winter chalice full\\nOf dead leaves, stained with autumn s amethyst\\nA few babe-flow ret faces then a skull.\\nA form to make the soul of artist dream\\nA canker hidden in the soft rose-leaf;\\nEyes that are irised with the fair dawn s gleam,\\nThen fade to ashes of a sunset grief.\\n7", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0019.jp2"}, "20": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nFair marble cities, washed by fawning tides\\nChallenging Heaven with domes and minarets\\nGray, shattered ruins, where the ichneumon hides.\\nAnd Death frames dice from ivoried castanets;\\nA nebule breathed from the fire-lipped Sun\\nA bubble rainbowed with a moment s grace\\nAnd then another planet s brief course run\\nA cinder on the hearths of boundless space.\\nVI\\nOn the vast beach of Time are careless strown\\nFragments untenanted by life or power\\nShells from the Ocean, gathered here and l)lown\\nBy whirlwinds of fate, a ghastly dower.\\nHere is the skull of Raffaelle, a brown shell.\\nAnd brittle from the fretting of time s tides\\nAnd here s the fragile and deserted cell.\\nThe rainbow-tinted shrine of annelides.\\nHere dwelt the mind of magic that inwrought\\nPictures to hang within the walls of heaven\\nAnd here the gentle hermit-soul that brought\\nPearls of price from ooze and black sea-leaven.", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0020.jp2"}, "21": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nWhich is the greater-canvas-square that gleams\\nWith forms that flash Uke angel s wings across\\nThe artist soul, when in a night of dreams\\nHe clasps the vision then wakens to his loss,\\nOr, the voluted palace of the worm,\\nWith all its curved arcades as finely drawn\\nAs sea-sprung palace, fair in front and form,\\nAnd flushed by the red cressets of the dawn?\\nVII\\nI heard a sound of weeping in the night\\nI saw a form clasp to its naked breast\\nSomething that shuddered in the cold starlight.\\nAnother soul by weight of life opprest.\\nI saw a priest before Thy altar stand,\\nIn the black midnight, pierced by one red star,\\nI tried to hear to hear and understand\\nHe called Thee near he called Thee as afar.\\nI saw a nun stare at her whitewashed wall\\nThere were some blood-stains on a Form that\\nhung\\nInsensible tho bitter tears did fall\\nIt heeded not the anguish whence they d sprung.\\n9", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0021.jp2"}, "22": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd out on the far water wastes that heaved\\nTheir waihng hands to irresponsive skies,\\nI heard, as tho I dreamed, and were deceived.\\nTheir waters close o er man s despairing cries.\\nMother and mariner, sacred mm and priest,\\nCalled, and Thou heard st not. Oh, the silence\\nbarred\\nGainst all but happiest souls by death released\\nBeyond those black abysses, feebly starred\\nVIII\\nFor, what is space but one vast, black abyss,\\nDarkened by tortured giants, blindly hurled.\\nPierced here and there by some sun taper s hiss\\nThat casts a pallid gleam on its slave-world\\nI cannot see Thee there for space is hell,\\nHell, with its million mills that tortured roll\\nAnd Time s the warder with his clanging bell.\\nAnd suns the lamps that light man s dreadful dole.\\nI cannot see Thee in the dark and cold,\\nDarkness of Erebus cold that fiercely burns,\\nIn the black interstellar spaces rolled.\\nPloughed by each cursed Enceladus that turns", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0022.jp2"}, "23": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nHis writhing bulk towards th avenging gods,\\nHis wan face lighted by a pallid beam,\\nFlung from the summits of the high abodes\\nWhence thunders issue, and the lightnings\\ngleam,\\nThunders, unmuffled in the sleeping void\\nLightnings that drown themselves in seas of night\\nAnd Thou, who reignest over worlds destroyed.\\nArt cloaked and hooded in relentless light.\\nIX\\nI called unto my sleeping gods, and said\\nAwake arise this is no time for rest\\nThe aching heavens travail above our head.\\nAnd these, our brothers, in the fital quest,\\nStrain every nerve and fibre of the soul\\nTo bridge the gulf that spans the mighty chasm\\nLeap down the valleys, climb the mountain thole.\\nWith heaving breasts and many a dread heart-\\nspasm.\\nTo find beyond the line of mountain crests\\nThe depths of Chaos, unsurveyed, unspanned,\\nBeyond the billows of the cloudlets breasts\\nOnly the shadow of a ghostly hand,\\nII", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0023.jp2"}, "24": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThat seems to beckon, seems to warn back\\nFrom dread destruction, watching for their trail,\\nCentred in hidden fires, in red cloud-wrack,\\nAnd all the dread Eterne s countervail.\\nAwake arise this is no time for rest\\nI shouted to my sleeping gods they turned\\nTheir sleepy eyes to the far mountain crest,\\nWhence gods avenging questing spirits spurned.\\nX\\nI ploughed through wastes of faded palimpsests.\\nBlack with the wounds of mighty winds that strove,\\nWith shattered wrestling arms and bleeding breasts.\\nTo drag from earth and heaven their treasure\\ntrove,\\nThe secret of their force the central power\\nThat moves the wheels of being and enclasps\\nWith tireless energy the star, the flower,\\nAnd counts the endless aeons that elapse\\nTwixt birth and death of all the quenchless orbs\\nThat wheel through spaces startled with their\\nflash.\\nThat dies into the darkness, and absorbs\\nInto the speechless silences the crash\\n12", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0024.jp2"}, "25": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nOf thundering worlds Is it all blind Force?\\nSome mad Cyclopean fury, that delights\\nTo trample worlds in its maniac course,\\nBreak sun-stars into blazing aerolites,\\nThen rest o er all the Chaos it has made,\\nLet flux and reflux stem the madd ning tide,\\nAnd over Death and Ruin be displayed\\nThe crimson standard of the Crucified.\\nXI\\nAnd yet such dreams but vex the ethereal sense,\\nPollute the sweeter atmosphere of thought,\\nAnd chide the languid soul s incompetence\\nTo reach and challenge all that it has sought.\\nFor, straining to the finer harmonies.\\nThat float above the discords of the mind.\\nIt leans its ear to catch the far-off cries.\\nThat hover o er the wailings of the wind.\\nUnlocks its eyes to catch the first faint ray\\nThat creeps above the far horizon s rim.\\nAnd strikes the hills and seas to perfect day.\\nAnd draws from soaring birds their matin hymn.\\n13", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0025.jp2"}, "26": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd the dumb statue soul essays to speak,\\nTo sing with Nature unto Nature s God\\nAlas how shall a stammering utterance seek\\nT interpret Him? shall star be sung by clod?\\nAnd the diameter of Being be crossed\\nBy some ephemera that beats his wings\\nHis little hour across the tempest-tossed,\\nAnd swollen seas of his imaginings\\nXII\\nAnd, lo the tiny camera tries to cast\\nOn the stelled canvas of the purple night,\\nAcross the yawnings of a space crevassed.\\nAnd ravined through the glaciers of light,\\nIts mock presentment of the mysterious Will\\nThat interpenetrates the universe\\nSows suns like sands and then grows silent till\\nThe spheres their tremulous litanies rehearse,\\nAnd orb to orb exultantly replies.\\nAnd hymns the vast volition that outspreads\\nIts wings from pole to pole of farthest skies,\\nAnd all the stellar mazes lightly treads,\\n14", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0026.jp2"}, "27": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nAnd yet is so elusive that the eye,\\nCovetous and capacious, of the soul,\\nSearching the void abysses of the sky,\\nFails to enfold that comprehensive whole,\\nThat soars beyond the atmosphere of thought,\\nAnd hides in blinding light its majesty;\\nStoops to a sordid atom, and is sought\\nBy Heaven s tumultuous galaxy.\\nXIII\\nWhat then, O Pilgrim of the night, O Soul\\nAvails thy scallop shell, thy sandalled feet\\nTelhng thy beads of dumb despair and dole,\\nStung by the summer sun, the winter s sleet?\\nThine eyes are dimmed with gazing from afar,\\nIn grays of twilight, duns of arctic skies.\\nWhere glitter, as in caves the bright felspar,\\nSolemn and silent the Night s childlike eyes.\\nDumb are the stars and dumb the grassy graves\\nSilent the gods of thine ethereal thought\\nFor thou art whipped as with a felon s staves.\\nWhen thy pride tells thee He, whom thou hast\\nsought,\\n15", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0027.jp2"}, "28": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThy God, Thy King, Thy Father is thyself!\\nUnconscious deity all too conscious worm\\nNay, lift thee on thy pedestals of pelf,\\nBe calm as God and let thy grace affirm\\nThy dignity, O man and let the nations say.\\nThese be thy Gods, O Israel come, adore\\nLo the bruised idols strew the world s way,\\nAnd mocking laughter peals from shore to shore.\\nXIV\\nAn empty catafalque the tapers burned\\nIn the night gloom of the cathedral aisle\\nThither the tear-stained yearning faces turned\\nOf a vast multitude of men, the while\\nTheir veiled sisters sobbed behind the screen.\\nT was night without and the strong rain did\\nplash\\nOn window and on roof; and oft between\\nThe lightning s gleams the thunder s drums did\\ncrash.\\nThe preacher bowed his face upon his hands.\\nHe durst not look upon that weeping crowd\\nAnd there where the dismantled altar stands,\\nA figure paused, and wailing cried aloud\\n1 6", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0028.jp2"}, "29": {"fulltext": "The Hidden\\nPreacher O preacher give to us a sign\\nFor thou hast watched and wept from the fair\\ndawn\\nWhere has the Presence fled? the Form Divine?\\nWhither has our God, our King, withdrawn?\\nNo answer came from out that muffled shape\\nBut Death clanked up the dark and silent aisle,\\nAnd cried Through me alone shall ye escape\\nThe blindness of your prison domicile.\\nXV\\nThen a great silence fell, and all was still,\\nStill as a winter s night, when light grows dim,\\nAnd all the star-lyres vibrate to fulfil\\nVesperal praises to the Elohim.\\nThe rain had ceased the preacher never spoke,\\nAnd all awaited voices from the vast.\\nSpeechless, o erhanging silences whence broke\\nGhosts of the present, spectres of the past.\\nThey glowered through the windowed dusk, and\\nshook\\nTheir threat ning shrouded hands, enmailed by\\nDeath,\\nW^hilst he, with hour-glass and his scythed crook,\\nSucked out of dying Time its one last breath,\\n2 17", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0029.jp2"}, "30": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd scattered on the floor the ghding sands,\\nFrom shattered glass, that hid in crannied space\\nThen swept, as sweeps the wave on winter strands\\nPreacher and people from that mournful place.\\nAnd gathered from the cataclysms passed,\\nAnd swollen with tears of human misery,\\nDown the far-stricken gulfs by death crevassed\\nThundered the cataracts of eternity", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0030.jp2"}, "31": {"fulltext": "THE REVEALED\\n19", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0031.jp2"}, "32": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0032.jp2"}, "33": {"fulltext": "THE REVEALED\\nNOW, I ve proclaimed a war with lusty\\ndeath\\nI say he s not the master of our fote\\nI claim for pulsing life, for rhythmic breath,\\nThe orbit of a universe, disconsolate.\\nIf but the dim perspective of the tomb\\nNarrows in its groove our destinies\\nIf but October grays, December s gloom\\nLean down and brood from God s penurious skies.\\nI hold that Life is Life that Life is Will,\\nA finite emanation from the Infinite\\nThat holds the Harp of Time, and every thrill\\nWafts upwards to the sympathetic sight\\nOf Him, who, throned afar, holds deathless watch\\nO er all His plastic hands have deftly made,\\nAnd reaches through His myriad realms to catch\\nThe worship of a race He has betrayed,\\n2 I", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0033.jp2"}, "34": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nIf night treads out our short and palHd day,\\nIf the grave holds in its rapacious maw\\nVictims of Heaven s fallacious display\\nDisproof that Light is Light that Light is Law.\\nII\\nI ve tired of Titans heaping thought on thought,\\nProjecting their own shadows on the clouds,\\nVast Brocken-spectres with their colors caught\\nFrom funereal mutes and coffin shrouds.\\nO man thou little mime upon the deck\\nOf this lone ship upon the wastes of space,\\nHow hast thou laboured for th impending wreck.\\nAnd cast thy foolish antics in the face\\nOf the great spirits, who watching from afar\\nWould lead thee safe within the harbor lights.\\nOver the surges of the harbor bar.\\nBeyond the pallid days, the starless nights.\\nInto the opal depths of the great Sea,\\nThat murmurs round the central throne of Him\\nWhose eyes have lighted from eternity\\nThe world of His wond ring Cherubim.\\n22", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0034.jp2"}, "35": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nO Titans cease sand-building on the shores,\\nWhere ceaseless wash the mordant waves of Time\\nO mimes beneath your masks and buskins roars\\nThe sea that swings to one discordant chime\\nIll\\nAt last, I looked into my soul, and cried\\nThou, thou at least, canst tell me nought but truth\\nThou oracle of God, through thee doth surge the\\ntide\\nOf everlasting thought, for bene, for ruth\\nPythia, that sittest in the inner shrine,\\nVotaries around thee, and a voice within\\nI have no gift to move thee, nor incline\\nThy utterance to desires that are akin\\nTo those of disembodied souls that lave\\nTheir tresses in the lakes of love that swim,\\nShadowed, unstirred by golden clouds that clave\\nAround the feet of brooding seraphim.\\nYet, shalt thou speak, O soul of mine, that sprang,\\nMinerva-like, from out the brain of God\\nKnowest thou not thy Father midst the clang\\nAnd turbulence that stirs this earthly clod?\\n23", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0035.jp2"}, "36": {"fulltext": "CIthara Mea\\nThou, who hast conquered the immensities,\\nHast winged the thickest airs of farthest space,\\nStill for a moment thy rapt ecstasies,\\nShow me thy God, thy Father, face to face\\nIV\\nBeyond the vault of logic, and the flight\\nOf Fancy, that with eagle pinions sweeps\\nFrom orb to orb of yonder quiv ring night,\\nFrom peak to peak of yon celestial steeps,\\nGo forth, my soul. As on the desert isle\\nHovers the soul of science, and the lips\\nOf men are silent, as the shades defile.\\nAnd sweep in triumph o er the sun s eclipse,\\nSo hover thou and hood thy burning eyes\\nOf all thy restless thoughts let eye of faith,\\nSwift and intuitive, watch the clouded skies\\nFor the one flash of face of Him, who saith\\nI am Who am darkness is round My throne\\nMy footstool is enwreathed in the clouds\\nIn the vast halls of Heaven I sit alone\\nThe myriad-winged cherubim enshrouds\\n24", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0036.jp2"}, "37": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nMy Majesty. How shall one poor, broken wing\\nTouch the high altitudes of the Holy Mount?\\nHow shall the wavering jet of faith upspring\\nTo fill its tulip-chalice at His fount?\\nV\\nVet, Faith must lead thee where the Fancy fails\\nLo the clouds part around His sandalled feet.\\nHigher, my soul behold, the folded veils\\nDraw back in mercy from the mercy-seat\\nGod s vesture curves and floats around His throne,\\nAs float ensanguined clouds at eventide\\nHis Heaven is thickly peopled yet alone\\nIn their majestic solitude abide\\nThe Holy Ones. No angel wing hath swept\\nThe golden dust of all the centuries.\\nOr tears the lonely y^ons have bewept,\\nAnd sunk into the silence of eternities,\\nThere where His footstool stretches thro the\\ncloud\\nYet, the vast silences of God are stirred\\nBy all the pauseless waves that cry aloud\\nIn anthems that afar are feebly heard,\\n25", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0037.jp2"}, "38": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAlthough the orbed heaven reels and quakes\\nUnder the thunders that are ever rolled\\nFrom shrill-voiced sjiirits o er the quivering lakes\\nOf spaces populous, or of worlds unsouled.\\nVI\\nThere poise thee on thy steady wing, my soul\\nFear not nor waver in thy lofty flight\\nLet no unreasoned dread thy nerves control\\nIn this thy leap towards the Infinite.\\nCast thine eyes upwards to where the radiant\\nzone\\nCinctures with studded stars the breast of God,\\nHolds He His sceptred Hand before His throne?\\nRules He the lightnings with His shepherd s rod\\nHere is no room for senses subsidence\\nThine eagle glance must face the Royal Sun\\nHigher, my soul, above the starlit trance\\nLook thou, nor waver till thy task be done.\\nDread not the deep-bowed faces all around,\\nThe quivering tones of the too tremulous choirs.\\nWrapt in thine own deep silence and profound,\\nMark where the last reluctant cloud expires,\\n26", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0038.jp2"}, "39": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nAnd shows the Face of the All- Perfect One\\nHow doth it shine from out the bhnding maze\\nHow blend into one mighty monotone\\nArgent of moons, and gold of summer days\\nVII\\nThou too ambitious one, return return\\nImperfect the All-Perfect canst thou see?\\nWhy will the silvered moth forever burn\\nIn the swift raptures of one agony?\\nIt is not safe to poise thee on the wings\\nOf faith beyond the starlit pinnacles,\\nWhere thy great compeer, Intellect, upsprings\\nTo challenge the unsleeping sentinels,\\nThat guard the light-paved avenues of Heaven,\\nSwing neath their feet the everlasting wheel,\\nAnd tell in thunder-crash, in swift-winged levin\\nThou canst not penetrate He must reveal.\\nCome back to thy Dodona grove, my soul\\nBe lonely let no vaulting dreams aspire\\nEarth holds thee, as the fragile strings control\\nThe sacrificial bird on funeral pyre.\\n27", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0039.jp2"}, "40": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nHere may st thou see God s Face amid the gloom\\nEnvisaged may st hear the gentle sigh\\nWhispered, as whisper mid the dusk s perfume\\nSobs of the night-jar s dolorous litany.\\nVIII\\nThen, where s the mighty Heaven which Dante\\nfeigned\\nWhere are the fields of Light, where Beatrice led\\n(Sceptred and laurelled for his song unstained,\\nCypressed, for he saw the unblessed dead.)\\nHer great grave poet, with the eyelids drooped\\nBeneath the weight of myrtle and of bays,\\nAnd the long aisles of night, wherein he stooped.\\nAnd strained for the reluctant, halcyon days?\\nAnd where the Patmos vision, sun-enshrined.\\nAnd dappled with the moons of gleaming pearls,\\nThe sea of light, where poet-saint combined\\nWaves of the chrysoprase, and crests of beryls\\nOr that high rapture, whence he called to God,\\nTenter of Tarsus, from the Kedar tents\\nOf the vast Pagan world, that hymned abroad\\nElysium, and its fleshed habiliments?\\n28", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0040.jp2"}, "41": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nAre these but vague, but artful symbolisms,\\nTo cheat a credulous, but ambitious race.\\nWhich calls for God for ever from th abysms\\nOf all His silent, irresponsive space?\\nIX\\nI saw a spirit floating above God,\\nThe old Judaic sprite of fear and scorn.\\nDread of the serpent s tooth, and emerod.\\nContempt, and proud uplifting of the horn,\\nWhen the Unseen drew back his smiting hands,\\nAnd gloved them at the voice of prayer or hymn,\\nAnd the lost race upraised o er Arab sands\\nA man-made idol for their Elohim.\\nI know that Spirit flaps his hooked wings\\nInto God s face to-day, as yesterday\\nI know men s blind desire forever rings\\nShow us the Father this is what we pray\\nAnd yet did God but yield to their desire.\\nTheir everlasting lust for hidden things\\nDid He reveal Him on His wheels of Fire,\\nAnd show of Life and Death the secret springs,\\n29", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0041.jp2"}, "42": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThey would but scorn Him for His gentleness,\\nAs scorned all blatant Jewry devil-driven\\nSeek to unthrone Him for divine largess,\\nUnvving His Angels, and unhinge His Heaven\\nX\\nAnd yet we look upon Him, as of old\\nThe scaled and soildd fisher-folk did look\\nWith blank unconscious stare and visage bold\\nUpon the face of Christ whilst angels shook\\nTheir vast outspreading pinions o er His head.\\nAnd down from the empyrean floats the Dove,\\nHovers with gleaming breast and wings outspread\\nIn all the raptures of the Triune Love.\\nT was but a glimpse but as the wind uplifts\\nThe fleecy haze, and shows the Holy Mount,\\nWhere Time forever sleeps on snowy drifts.\\nAnd all the seas exhaust th eternal fount\\nSo the far flash of heaven revealed the light\\nThat broke in meteor gleamings from the breast\\nOf God lest the effulgence blind the sight\\nOf eyes, white-filmed from the holy Quest,\\n30", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0042.jp2"}, "43": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nThen all was gray again and here was Man,\\nAnd all the joy Transfiguration wrought\\nPales from its sudden splendor, and grows wan,\\nAnd faith assumes what the far vision brought.\\nXI\\nWhere a wan water stares unto the sky\\nFrom a fringed socket of empurpled hills,\\nUnflecked by wing of bird, starred cope, or\\nshadowy\\nDream-picture, that from azure deeps distils,\\nAnd where a black rock, that has shook aside\\nThe amorous curls of a tangled vine.\\nFrowns to its shadow in the sleeping tide,\\nAnd the deep silence pants for the Divine,\\nA prophet sate, long-bearded and gray-browed,\\nSate and awaited one prophetic sign\\nOver the glassy depths, deep bayed and bowed,\\nEyry of eagle, and the lion s shrine.\\nLo a faint coruscation on the cloud,\\nAnd just a ripple on the water s face,\\nAnd just a whisper s echo, not so loud\\nAs to disturb the trout s unconscious grace\\n31", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0043.jp2"}, "44": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThe seer arose, and with a trumpet tongue\\nAs when the thunder giant stalks abroad,\\nHe woke the World- Lyre with stars o erstrung\\nI ve seen the Face I ve heard the Voice of\\nGod\\nXII\\nI placed my Poet against your scientist\\nI placed my Prophet- King against your Poet.\\nThere was one Thabor in the years of Christ\\nTo-day a Thabor is to all who know it.\\nSo says the pallid priest, with tear-dimmed eyes,\\nWondering at the white Circle of the Host,\\nTrembling to touch It, whilst the vast surmise\\nWanders o er Heaven, as a happy ghost\\nWho, on its birthday in eternity.\\nBrushes the fields of air with winged feet,\\nPauses and speculates. Can this be I\\nSoul of my Soul thy blessedness complete\\nSo says the dreaming nun, in cell and choir,\\nWatching the silent gate for word or sign\\nOr the white blood-stained Figure to inspire\\nFor earth s desires some Heaven s anodyne.\\n32", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0044.jp2"}, "45": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nAnd who shall say beneath that thorn-crowned\\nhead\\nGod s eyes flash not from out their film s eclipse\\nAnd who shall say, beneath the mystic Bread\\nGleams not, to Faith, Christ s white apocalypse?\\nXIII\\nAnd I, as one blindfolded from his birth,\\nStumble and stray around my Father s house,\\nCall with up-pleading hands to heaven and earth\\nThat light my aching sight might yet espouse.\\nAnd, lo I hear, behind the arras stirred\\nBy faintest breathing, sounds of gliding feet,\\nAnd just the echo of a laughing word,\\nAnd just a surmise that the spirits sweet,\\nWho have disrobed them of the vesture vile\\nOf this dread body, mock me in their love,\\nAnd whisper, See, he stumbleth yet awhile,\\nHe seeketh shadows, like a blinded dove,\\nHe seeth not the Father smiling there,\\nAnd just eluding his complaining hands\\nHe beats with querulous pain the silent air\\nCould sve but reach him, and unloose his bands,\\n3 33", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0045.jp2"}, "46": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd breathe upon his mouth and on his face\\nA gentle air, as when the Spirit moves\\nAnd show how black abyss and sunlit space\\nAre tremulous with the souls of all he loves.\\nXIV\\nAnd one, in muffled tones, as in a mist\\nOf Alpine vapor, when deep calls to deep,\\nWhispered, The Time, the Time, for God His tryst\\nLet us awake him, for his senses sleep,\\nSmooth out the wrinkles of far fields of space.\\nMarshal the stricken suns till they unite\\nUpon the Tree of Life, as clusters grace\\nThe orange groves beneath the pale moonlight\\nAnd tell him. Here s God s light-throne, but tis\\nmuffled.\\nAnd it is night unto the Face of God\\nHere is the sea of heaven, unflecked, unruffled\\nOpen thine eyes to vistas yet untrod\\nAnd one broke in. Let all the harps of heaven\\nBlend in one burst of virile symphony.\\nAs when earth s mighty forests tempest-riven\\nUnloose their stops in frenzied agony.\\n34", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0046.jp2"}, "47": {"fulltext": "The Revealed\\nAnd let the far star-sentinels combine\\nShrill harmony and the flame-plumed spheral song,\\nTill earth s and the skied denizens marshalled\\nline\\nLong-buried praises from dead worlds prolong.\\nXV\\nAnd I alone, as in a theatre vast\\nAnd empty, at the painted drop-scene stared\\nAnd, as a frightened child doth upward cast\\nHis eyes at some unbodied spectre scared,\\nThought, Is this all, or shall the curtain lift?\\nAnd shall I take my chance of what I see\\nFar sunlit spaces through a dreary rift\\nAnd through a chink of death, the eternal Sea\\nShall I say. Yes O Spirits, strain the cords.\\nAnd let the scene curl upwards to the sky.\\nAnd let the crash of all your heaven-strung chords\\nBreak on my poppied senses, till they cry,\\nPeace, and be still and give me back my earth\\nAh, yes my saints, untouched be your lyres\\nTill death of life breaks into sudden birth,\\nAnd dream of death in waking day expires.\\n35", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0047.jp2"}, "48": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd hush the Winding light of heaven s spheres,\\nI am content to bear the transient cost.\\nFor all the Vision that bowed heaven reveres,\\nLeave me the moon-like meekness of my Host\\n36", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0048.jp2"}, "49": {"fulltext": "A MATIN-SONG\\n37", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0049.jp2"}, "50": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0050.jp2"}, "51": {"fulltext": "A MATIN-SONG\\nSEA and oh, tranquil Sea\\nBelted with gleaming pearls,\\nWarden of treasures and gold,\\nIs it true, O pitiless Sea,\\nThat neath where thy wave hath rolled\\nThou holdest forever in fee,\\nIn the strength of eddying swirls,\\nGold of men, and their might.\\nBlanched in the green twilight,\\nWhere no power of pity imperils\\nThy power that is infinite\\nWaves and oh, swelling waves\\nWho hath lifted ye up.\\nAnd flung ye to waste on the shore,\\nAs wine from a wassail cup\\nWhy spend ye your strength in vain\\nTo-day, as ever of yore\\nScooped from the dusky caves.\\nHave ye no purpose, or pain\\nOf forethought, to lavish and lower\\nYour crested strength in the rain\\nThat weepeth, and is no more?\\n39", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0051.jp2"}, "52": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nSands and oh, shining sands\\nDimpled with rainbow shells,\\nSmooth, and shining, and firm,\\nAs if never the ocean swells,\\nIn the strength and stress of the storm,\\nLeaguered by high commands\\nFrom the god of the air who indwells,\\nHad never shivered their strength\\nOn your patient face will ye keep\\nForever the same, through the length\\nOf leagues by the lips of the deep\\nShip and oh, phantom Ship\\nThy tall spars netting the sky.\\nPlunging at every dip\\nAnd decline of the turbulent seas\\nFling back to us the Key,\\nThat ever from lip to lip\\nIntones thy far destiny.\\nSilent and sad to the breeze\\nAnswer thy canvassed shrouds\\nThine, too, are the mysteries\\nOf the stars and clouds\\n40", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0052.jp2"}, "53": {"fulltext": "THE DREADED DAWN\\n41", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0053.jp2"}, "54": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0054.jp2"}, "55": {"fulltext": "THE DREADED DAWN\\nISMENE we walked the sands together,\\nAnd I was winter, and you were May\\nBut our love of the sea broke Time asunder,\\nMade summer for both that happy day.\\nIsmene your hand was gathered in mine,\\nAs the heart of a rose in its withered leaves\\nAnd your finger petals twined and closed,\\nAs your memory twines around him that grieves.\\nIsmene your gray eyes wandered afar\\nO er the tumbling billows that heaved and broke,\\nAnd then sought mine but I feared to look.\\nLest the soul that I dreaded had there awoke.\\nIsmene a child thou wert then, and a child\\nI prayed you d remain through the clust ring\\nyears\\nAlas for time knows but growth and change.\\nAnd they come with the terrors of list ning fears.\\n43", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0055.jp2"}, "56": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nIsmene you lifted a shell to the shell\\nOf the soft pink ears that had heard but the\\nnotes\\nThat slip from the skies, as a loosened lock\\nSlips over thy neck, and the salt wind floats.\\nIsmene you said, Hark, hark to the waves\\nAnd the echoing sounds from the far-off shore\\nI wonder do angels play with shells.\\nDo they start at the leap of the sea s long roar?\\nIsmene I thanked my God at the word,\\nTho I dreaded to meet thy soft gray eye,\\nAnd I said in my heart, She is still but a child,\\nWe may linger and love as in days gone by.\\nIsmene the hooded eve came down,\\nAnd a shadow fell betwixt you and me,\\nFor your brow grew troubled, and you looked afar\\nO er the purple wastes of the twilight sea.\\nIsmene you said. Let us go and you drew\\nThe trembling petals of your white hand\\nFrom mine, that closed, as the Hand of God\\nDrew up His curtains o er sea and land.\\n44", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0056.jp2"}, "57": {"fulltext": "The Dreaded Dawn\\nIsmene I said, Behold the Night,\\nThe hermit Night, and his sanctities\\nOf star and wave then I ventured to look\\nIn the fathomless depths of Ismene s eyes.\\nIsmene I hoped that thy child-soul gazed\\nThrough eyes that were soft as the eyes of a\\nfawn,\\nAlas t was a woman s soul looked at me\\nI was face to face with the dreaded dawn\\n45", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0057.jp2"}, "58": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0058.jp2"}, "59": {"fulltext": "A VESPERAL\\n47", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0059.jp2"}, "60": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0060.jp2"}, "61": {"fulltext": "A VESPERAL\\nOUT of the shadowy East\\nLooms the shadow of Night\\nGod draws up o er the cage\\nOf earth, with its man and beast,\\nHis arras of curtained hght\\nAnd, as a bird in his rage\\nAt the dark, sings long and loud.\\nLifting his head on high\\nHigher in dreams than the cloud\\nSings loud and long as a lark.\\nWho seeks the silence of skies.\\nLest the gross sounds of earth\\nShould pierce his illumined dark.\\nOr echo in feeble cries\\nHis rapture s jubilant birth.\\nSo man, in the curtained gloom\\nOf night, apprehends the vast\\nSweep of the harmonies\\nSpacious and solemn they float\\nFrom the soul of man to the sky,\\n4 49", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0061.jp2"}, "62": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nUpwards and onwards cast\\nFrom the star to the list ning soul\\nWho shall interpret that cry?\\nDoes it die in the dim remote\\nOr far as the spheres unroll,\\nDoes it echo forever and aye,\\nA plaint in the infinite void,\\nAs of a spirit decoyed\\nFrom its native heaven astray?\\nA challenge from pole to pole\\nFor a new life s assay?\\nWhen o er the Arab sands\\nMoved the shadowy cloud,\\nHung over Israel s ark.\\nIt was but a mist, till the dark\\nDrew o er the earth a shroud\\nAs Night s black empire demands.\\nAnd the smoke flashed into flame\\nOf ruddy splendor and heat.\\nAnd bent in the wind and bowed\\nIts light and its heat afar.\\nAnd the thoughts of men in the day\\nAre smoke and mist till the dusk\\nBreathes on the pillared cloud\\nAnd, lo the columnar flame\\nOut of the darkness wakes\\n5\u00c2\u00b0", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0062.jp2"}, "63": {"fulltext": "A Vesperal\\nLight, and heat, and the musk\\nOf perfumed, perfected thought.\\nHail then, to thee, O Night\\nThou alone canst evolve\\nFury and flame and light\\nFrom the vast suns that revolve\\nAt thy beck and thou, too, alone\\nCanst change the gray monotone\\nOf vaporous misty dreams\\nTo the godlike flame of thought.\\nWhen man in his madness deems\\nThe rapture and rage beseems\\nHis soul from the heavens far-brought.", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0063.jp2"}, "64": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0064.jp2"}, "65": {"fulltext": "THE SOUL-BELL\\n53", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0065.jp2"}, "66": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0066.jp2"}, "67": {"fulltext": "THE SOUL-BELL\\nNIGHT, and its noon, and a far to-morrow,\\nGray with the fears\\nOf a Future that leans to a Past to borrow\\nIts meed of tears.\\nWhite are the drifts outside and hither.\\nAround her bed.\\nWhite comes the face, that asks. Oh, whither\\nFares forth my dead\\nWhite is the taper clasped in her fingers\\nHer lips are white\\nRecall Thy judgment, O God that lingers\\nThis weary night\\nHark from the ivy across the river\\nMoaneth the bell\\nDeath fling thy arrow back to its quiver\\nThere it is well\\nStill as the marble and cold she seemeth.\\nLooking afar;\\nRound the wide orb of her future gleameth\\nHer Life s lone star.\\n55", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0067.jp2"}, "68": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nFrail, how the garment of Life still holds her\\nFrom the far flight\\nThrough the trail of the stars, whose eyes enfold her\\nBeyond the night.\\nHark how again the soul-bell splinters\\nThe granite gloom.\\nThick with the murk of a thousand winters,\\nAnd a halting doom.\\nCome, O ye Spirits, that float and hover\\nAbove the soul\\nIs there no gleam of bliss to cover\\nGray death and dole\\nThere, once again, like a bolt from heaven,\\n(Why always three?)\\nThunders the soul-bell till earth is riven\\nTwixt you and me.\\nA flash of crimson in some far bourn\\nA star hath bled\\nEarth and the sky have met to mourn\\nIsmene, dead\\n56", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0068.jp2"}, "69": {"fulltext": "APOTHEOSIS\\n57", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0069.jp2"}, "70": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0070.jp2"}, "71": {"fulltext": "APOTHEOSIS\\nGOD took her in the dawn of life,\\nAnd righdy, for what right have we\\nTo gainsay God s economy\\nThrough all our fretfulness and strife\\nHe holds in fief what he has made,\\nAnd star and flower, and bird and blade\\nBend to His beck. If therefore He\\nSome matin hour looks round His choirs,\\nAnd thinks, with all their pomp displayed,\\nCherubic love, seraphic fires,\\nHe misses one sweet face and shy\\nOr, in the unisoned gold lyres\\nCaught in angelic hands, one string,\\nCut from a human heart to try\\nA note than heaven s more ravishing,\\nWould vibrate neath His loving hand.\\nAnd sing and soar at His command.\\nWhat right have we, here lingering.\\nTo quench in question such demand\\n59", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0071.jp2"}, "72": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nOr if my Lady bent her head,\\nStar-crowned and silver-crescented,\\nAnd saw a lily s golden spear\\nSheathed in scabbard velveted\\nAnd thinks that wonder should be here,\\nIn my own garden; tis too fair\\nFor that brown earth, and that broad stare\\nOf foolish vagrants what know they\\nOf beauty, but to watch decay\\nPrint his brown fingers, withering?\\nAnd if my Lady s gardener comes\\nWith silver shears and reverent head\\nAnd cuts the juicy stem, or plucks\\nThe fair thing by its fibre strings,\\nPlants it anew beneath the flux\\nAnd flow of amber-colored springs.\\nThat leap where er my Lady s feet\\nPrints a columbar paraclete\\nHave you or I the right to fling\\nSalt tears in peevish questioning?\\nAh, no but if God leaves the dreams,\\nThe happy gift of Memory,\\nOf stringed harp and perfumed flower,\\nStrung on the branches near the stream\\nOr planted at my Lady s feet,\\nFairest in all her Eden bovver,\\n60", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0072.jp2"}, "73": {"fulltext": "Apoth\\neosis\\nThat lines the crystal-paven street,\\nAnd if God leans an ear to catch\\n^olian melodies, passing sweet,\\nFrom that sweet harp whose tones attach\\nMute wond ring angels sympathy\\nThough harp and flower are lost to us,\\nOf that sweet soul so covetous,\\nWe shall not grudge to Paradise\\nOur loved ones apotheosis\\n6i", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0073.jp2"}, "74": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0074.jp2"}, "75": {"fulltext": "A NOCTURNE\\n63", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0075.jp2"}, "76": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0076.jp2"}, "77": {"fulltext": "A NOCTURNE\\nQuid sil fiihiriuH cras,fitge quarere.\\nTEARLESS, but with awe-stricken eyes she\\nstood\\nBeside me in the ling ring of the night,\\nJust when the dusk was challenging the light,\\nAnd questioning its rights o er field and flood\\nHer trembling lips vermilioned were with blood.\\nBut the soft gates of speech did ope despite\\nThe warning fingers tinted red and white,\\nAs if they d clasped the nails of Holy Rood.\\nBut the lips bit as if in sudden pain.\\nThen twice ensanguined uttered this one word\\nIf thou didst know and placing once again\\nThe white mute finger on the trembling chord\\nOf speech, the vision vanished in the fane\\nOf forms invisible, and words unheard.\\n5 65", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0077.jp2"}, "78": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nII\\nThen sleep fled far for as the rushing tide\\nOf fretful water, that is rudely flung\\nIn silvern drops from every steeled rung,\\nMakes the vast wheel revolve and ev ry stride\\nSets in imperious motion, side by side,\\nThe pliant mechanism, lightly hung\\nSo the great stream of thought, so quickly sprung.\\nSet all conjectures wand ring far and wide.\\nIf thou didst know what rapt mysteriousness\\nIs veiled behind this dark and sibyl speech\\nWhat thread of fate? What promise of duress?\\nWhat hand from out the mists of time to reach,\\nAnd frame and mould in fretful hiddenness\\nThe lessons that these dusk-drawn visions\\nteach\\nIll\\nAnd did I know that form and that face\\nOr recognise those veiled lineaments?\\nAh, yes a chain of dim, far-off events\\nDrew from the past the wonder and the grace,\\nThat breathed round her like a crystal case,\\nAnd made those spiritual environments\\nAn atmosphere beyond all touch and sense.\\nBeyond all limits of our time and space.\\n66", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0078.jp2"}, "79": {"fulltext": "A Nocturne\\nFor she would speak as one who fain were mute,\\nAnd she would look as seeing things afar,\\nAnd the soul-soilings that so oft imbrute,\\nShe touched as with the pencil of a star\\nAnd all earth s Protean lies she did confute.\\nAnd harness slaves to Faith s triumphal car.\\nIV\\nHow long ago Ah, well, just hark and count\\nThe beads of years that since our youth have\\nrolled\\nAnd yet, t is not as beadsman s rosary told,\\nI number the sad days since she did mount\\nA spirit to the spirit s happy fount\\nOf life, whose light doth all great things enfold.\\nTwas but to-day the black reluctant mould.\\nFlung on the virginal tablets that surmount\\nHer grave, did crumble and hither at my feet\\nThe rude discourteous spade did idly fling\\nA red-brown fragment and a wisp of hair.\\nSpared by the unconscious chemists that com-\\nplete\\nThe work of death t was all that his dread\\nsting\\nHad left of all was perfect, and most fair.\\n67", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0079.jp2"}, "80": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nV\\nNow I was reverent, for I pitied her,\\nAntl this her relic which I gently raised,\\nWhile the rough sexton greatly was amazed\\nThat such a piteous shell should move or stir\\nAught but contempt to me t was harbinger\\nOf dest nies fulfilled, and high upraised,\\nA mute memento of a soul, that, dazed\\nBy its too daring thoughts, would far prefer\\nThe unconscious simply-spoken symbolism\\nOf all her faith and lowly love did teach.\\nSuch are the souls that spring from the abysm\\nOf Time, and stretch towards the farthest reach.\\nWhere life s dim stainings touch God s faultless\\nprism,\\nTransmuted beyond the power of human speech,\\nVI\\nBut if to-day I was so calm and reverent,\\nAnd only wondered at this awful birth,\\nWrought by the subtle alchemists of earth,\\nWhy did she come with such dread looks intent,\\nAnd rouse me from lethargic wonderment\\nInto a paroxysm of doubt and dearth\\nOf faith me, whom the widest girth\\nOf God s great universe can scarce content?\\n68", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0080.jp2"}, "81": {"fulltext": "A Nocturne\\nIf thou didst know Spare me, thou spectral\\nsaint\\nWrap up thy secrets in the mist and cloud,\\nOr visit those weak souls that fail and faint\\nAt every rustling of the spirit s shroud\\nNo feeble suppliance for some hidden taint\\nShall plead my soul, by midnight terrors\\ncowed.\\nVII\\nAnd if thy raised forefinger threatens fate.\\nWrought in the dark conspirings of the years,\\nIn pestles filled with all the floods of tears,\\nThat drop like gouts of blood from love or hate\\nIt shall not move me from the high estate.\\nWhere in the sympathy of lost compeers,\\nMy mountain poets, my far-sighted seers,\\nI look at life nor sunken nor elate,\\nI place my back against the walls of time,\\nAnd bid the vengeful years come swiftly on.\\nOn with the music march, the funeral chime.\\nWith blackest spectres of the life that s gone\\nDown the dim valleys, laced with serpent slime\\nWhere neither sun nor stars nor moon hath\\never shone.\\n69", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0081.jp2"}, "82": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nVIII\\nAnd yet If thou didst know, what sad portent\\nIs hid beneath these words of simplest guise?\\nFor if I reason, T is madness to be wise,\\nYet wisdom from above is often lent,\\nWith all the forethought of a wise intent.\\nSo when the sheeted spectral years shall rise,\\nHolding in trembling hands my destinies,\\nI may prepare for peace and anguish blent,\\nEv^en then I sink in doubt. That pregnant hint.\\nDoes it forecast my future weal or woe?\\nIs it the sunshine s gold, or purple tint,\\nFlung from the frowning clouds that slowly go\\nAthwart my path Storms rave or sunbeams glint\\n1 set my face gainst all the winds that blow.\\nIX\\nCurious, but unconcerned, I 11 daily watch\\nThe long, slow ribbon of my life unrolled.\\nEach hour employ some mystery to unfold.\\nSome prophecy to unravel, or to catch\\nThe sounds that follow th uplifted latch\\nIn some dark haunted chambers, where untold\\nLie secrets of the gods, bestial, unsouled,\\nBeyond Time s alchemy, or Death s despatch.\\n70", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0082.jp2"}, "83": {"fulltext": "A Nocturne\\nCalm as the mystics by the sacred stream,\\nWrapt in the high empyrean of pure thought,\\nA silent witness of that wizard s dream\\nThe cunning of the fictile mind has wrought\\nTo cheat our lying senses this I 11 deem\\nA foil for Fate, and all that Fate has brought.\\nX\\nI wonder shall this dawn-lit vision rise,\\nThose future halcyon moments to perplex?\\nI wonder shall these dark suggestions vex\\nThe calm, untroubled seas of sightless eyes.\\nSuch as the poets in their large surmise\\nGave to their gods, to watch the high convex\\nOf heaven s broad azure, troubled with the\\nflecks\\nAnd floes that from immensity arise\\nFor mark you, though the human eye can\\ngrasp\\nAnd measure the wide orbits of the spheres,\\nAnd though the insatiable soul can clasp,\\nAnd hold commune with spirits as compeers\\nOne fretful mote makes myriad worlds collapse,\\nOne doubt may break the crystal vase of\\ntears.\\n71", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0083.jp2"}, "84": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nXI\\nI fear these words would mar the tranquil bliss,\\nThat hovers like an angel bove th Orient\\nI think no sage on highest thought intent\\nCould seal his ears unto the strident hiss,\\nThat leaps from lips of such dark threats as this\\nFor how to wrap oneself in deep content\\nFrom rifted discord of an instrument,\\nIs the one secret human lore may miss.\\nA gadfly drove a goddess to despair\\nAnd the far-seeing God lay chained and prone,\\nHis wisdom vanquished, his forethought laid bare,\\nAnd the wild winds of earth caught up his moan.\\nAnd echoed down the centuries, gaunt and sere,\\nIts bliss, its bane, for which no tears atone.\\nXII\\nThen whither shall I turn from this dark Fate?\\nFor human foresight s but a feeble guess,\\nA blind leap into gulfs of nothingness.\\nFrom which the cry of rescue comes too late.\\nNor can your pythoness in frenzy sate\\nThe all too urgent questionings of distress.\\nThe knockings of a soul in dire duress,\\nTo lay the ever-haunting ghost prostrate.\\n72", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0084.jp2"}, "85": {"fulltext": "A Nocturne\\nSurely my soul is not imprisoned here,\\nAgainst the frowning walls of destiny\\nTo beat its wings in bursts of wild despair,\\nAnd clamor to its God to set it free\\nCome back come back O spectral saint to share\\nMy madness or to solve thy mystery.\\n73", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0085.jp2"}, "86": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0086.jp2"}, "87": {"fulltext": "QUESTIONINGS\\n75", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0087.jp2"}, "88": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0088.jp2"}, "89": {"fulltext": "QUESTIONINGS\\nMARVELLOUS are thy laws,\\nO Nature where dost hide thy\\npent-up heart,\\nLeaping with wild life in every part,\\nAnd streaming without one intermittent pause,\\nThrough the fine filaments of capillaries\\nIn man, and flower, and grass and veined leaf?\\nWhence comes thy winter s systole of grief.\\nWhen shrinking and ashamed of thy nakedness,\\nAnd blanched by terrors of thy dire distress,\\nThou sinkest like a suppliant to thy knees.\\nAnd prayest some hidden God to clothe and\\nwarm thee,\\nAnd give thee spring s bright veilings, summer s\\nlivery\\nWondrous are thy ways,\\nO Nature what vast searching mind\\nEncompasses thee, as the moist Southern wind\\n77", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0089.jp2"}, "90": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWraps round thy myriad children with its\\nwarmth,\\nWhen the unfeathered ice-wind fiercely storm th?\\nWhat finger draws thy organ mysteries,\\nAnd frets the palpitating keys\\nInto a hurricane of sound, or a faint breath.\\nThat seems the voice of soul that listeneth\\nFor one ferewell from the dumb lips it left?\\nAnd what dread hand pushed from behind the\\narras\\nOf space illimitable, doth tease and harass\\nInto unbending discipline thy child.\\nWho starts and wonders, yet would fain embarrass\\nThe secret friend, whose mercy eyes and mild\\nClose not nor turn from soul or form defiled?\\nMajestic are thy works,\\nO Nature where doth dwell thy mighty soul?\\nWhat vast voluted caverns doth enroll\\nThe subtle spirit that forever lurks,\\nVap rous, like an essence that s distilled\\nFrom a vast limbec odorously filled\\nOf spices by a cunning alchemist\\nWhat nicely-mortised sympathies enlist\\nThy labors like a chained and fettered\\nslave\\nIn the black midnight of a wizard s cave\\n78", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0090.jp2"}, "91": {"fulltext": "Questionings\\nWhat dream I? Slave? Nay, monarch of the\\nspheres,\\nWhose feet the thunder s black battalions trod,\\nWhose hand hath grasped the forked lightning s\\nspears\\nBreath of the universe Nature s king Our God\\n79", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0091.jp2"}, "92": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0092.jp2"}, "93": {"fulltext": "WHAT ARY SCHEFFER\\nPAINTED\\n8i", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0093.jp2"}, "94": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0094.jp2"}, "95": {"fulltext": "WHAT ARY SCHEFFER PAINTED\\nSt. Aug. Conf. Lib. ix., cap. x., 3.\\nI WAS at Ostia-Tiber and springtime\\nX through the green mist that hung on\\nthe trees\\nBrown birds shook their love songs in rapture\\nand earth, but for the moan of her seas,\\nWas silent with joy it was evening a glory still\\nhung in the west.\\nWhere the curls of his fires marked the place\\nwhere the sun-god had reeled to his rest.\\nAnd she sat beside me, my mother, whose face I\\nstill trembled to see\\nI knew that its olive was furrowed with lines\\nthrough her anguish for me\\nI knew that the wide eyes were sad from the\\nwatch in the night, and the tear.\\nThat blurred the soft beauty of stars, when the\\nhand that was lingering here\\nS3", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0095.jp2"}, "96": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nOn my knee, firmly clasped in my own, was lifted\\nto God in tlie night.\\nAnd the pulses of stars and her pulses of pain,\\nwere both bare to His sight.\\nII\\nWell, there in the fragrance of twilight, I hooded\\nmy reason he slept\\nAnd I drew forth from my Fancy, my dove with\\nher pinions of pearl, that kept\\nFolded close (for this falcon she feared since\\nthe Pasch and the baptismal tryst.\\nWhen I threw off the purple of Plato, and put on\\nthe fool-garments of Christ).\\nAnd I bade her go out into spaces, where never\\na sun-shaft had sped.\\nNor the arrows of stars where the light and the\\nroar of the furnaces red,\\nWhence the Godhead had smitten His suns, never\\nreached but to pause and to die.\\nStricken down by the darkness, the silence, that\\ncircle our space as a sky\\nAnd there she should pause and eyes closed,\\nwings folded, should answer me this\\nJf a silence so great could encompass a soul yet\\nunraised to the bliss", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0096.jp2"}, "97": {"fulltext": "What Ary Scheffer Painted\\nOf a heaven made perfect with vision of beauty,\\nso radiant, so full,\\nThat the dream of it weakens us here but a\\nsoul that yet clings to this dull,\\nCold earth, is environed with nerves that tremble,\\nand tingle, and shrink\\nIf a dim sea of silence were round, into which\\nevery whisper should sink\\nHushed, the roar of the rapid suns, hushed the\\ntrailing of tresses bright,\\nWhich the daring comets loosen, and leave in\\ntheir lawless flight.\\nHushed the sibilance harsh of the waves when\\ntheir white teeth bite the sand\\nHushed the crash of the siroc the seismic terror\\nthat tears the land\\nHushed the moaning of storms in the pines\\nhushed the lonely horrors of Alps\\nWhere the avalanche roars and leaps on the sum-\\nmits of hoary scalps\\nHushed the soft susurrus of prayer hushed the\\ncooing of doves at rest\\nAnd the tender cry to the mother from the depths\\nof a downy nest\\nHushed the opening of buds to the sun hushed\\nthe floating of fragrance rare.\\nPoured out from the hearts of flowers on the\\nbreath of the summer air\\n85", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0097.jp2"}, "98": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nHushed the faUing of dews on the sea; hushed\\nthe waving of pahns in the deep\\nHushed the pulsings of Hght in the sky; hushed\\nthe breathing of babes in their sleep\\nAnd all things held their breath and the beat-\\nings of Time should cease\\nCould we call such silence, rest for that soul?\\ncould we call it peace?\\nIll\\nBut lo as I spoke, pinions broken, eyes filmed,\\nlay dead at my feet\\nMy dove but the falcon unhooded, with a tumult\\nof cries, with a fleet,\\nSwift flight as of meteors autumnal, that glide\\nfrom the depths of the signs,\\nFlashed out from the known to the unknown,\\nfrom things seen to the hidden designs,\\nThat lie deep in the bosom of God, like fire in a\\ncloud and from thence\\nLeaped down the abysses, was lost in the realms\\nof the ideal where sense\\nFaints away and the language of man is a bab-\\nbling of brooks to the sky,\\nThe TO \u00e2\u0082\u00acv the to ttSv time, space, the soul,\\nthe dead, and the quick who die\\nEphemerse all, men and motes, a cycle of shades,\\n\\\\vhich a breath\\n86", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0098.jp2"}, "99": {"fulltext": "What Ary Scheffer Painted\\nDoth make and unmake, which leap from nothing\\nto Hfe, to death,\\nAs a mist on the mirror of time, where the face\\nof the God-head is glassed\\nThe Eternal the Selfsame Who is who\\nknoweth no future, no past.\\nAh Manes, thou fool who wouldst seek two\\nGods, and two fountains of being.\\nFind me One He eludeth thy grasp, dumbs thy\\nvoice, maketh foolish thy seeing\\nGo, plumb the abysses and find him rend na-\\nture, and say if you can.\\nThat He sleeps in the mineral, dreams in the\\nanimal, wakens in man\\nAnd I reeled from the din of my thoughts to\\nthe whirl of conjectures cried Cease\\nAnd with gall on my lips aloud to the night Is\\nthis rest? is this peace?\\nIV\\nAnd the sailor boy sang in his boat, sang clear\\nwith a promise of life.\\nThe vesper hymn Lucis Creator, but on me in\\nthe night and the strife\\nA stream, thick and turbid, and luscious, rolled\\nout from the caverns of the past,\\nNot of Lethe, would God that it were but of\\nmemories vicious and vast,\\n87", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0099.jp2"}, "100": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nOf dreams that make welcome the dawn, of vis-\\nions that haunt me and mock\\nMy senses with odors as sweet as an echo tf\\nmusic, the shock\\nOf sounds that make drunk with deUght, soft\\ntouches that torture and thrill,\\nPluck my robe, fan my face with a breath of balm,\\nthat if breathed would kill\\nAnd I laid my head low on the sill, filled the\\nhyacinth bells with my tears,\\nCried to Christ to relieve me from memories of\\ndeath, from a future of fears,\\nFrom a torture of thought that thrills, from the\\nvengeance of vice, the increase\\nOf pain in knowledge the evil exchange for\\npride of the gift of peace\\nBut a hand soft as light stole around me, and a\\nwhisper so low and sweet,\\nI d have crept to the ground but she held me,\\nI d have crept and clasped her feet\\nWhilst abyss calleth out to abyss whilst deep\\nmoaneth back unto deep,\\nHearest thou not the soft voice of the spouse,\\nHis Beloved what giveth He? Sleep\\nAh but who s His Beloved I cried in my pain\\nthen she drew back my head,\\nKissed my cheek, but was silent God spoke\\ntwo Sabbaths, and she was dead", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0100.jp2"}, "101": {"fulltext": "THE DUMB SHALL SPEAK\\n89", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0101.jp2"}, "102": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0102.jp2"}, "103": {"fulltext": "THE DUMB SHALL SPEAK\\nI SLEPT, and saw all Nature fronting God\\nA fair, white statue, speechless, lifeless, cold\\nA dumb enigma to a race that trod\\nBeneath it, ever guessing at the mould\\nAnd mind that framed it and the plastic hand\\nThat wrought its loveliness and th archetype\\nFrom whose ethereal essence it was planned,\\nWhat time the fruitage of the hours was ripe.\\nAnd shall it ever see And shall those lips\\nBlush to red rubies in the crystal vase.\\nWhen silence breaks beneath the black eclipse\\nOf lips unhallowed, or some wanton gaze?\\nAnd from the unplumbed deeps the answer came\\nNo but one day in one deep, holy kiss,\\nA child of God shall press those eyes to flame\\nAnd one day in the pangs of frenzied bliss\\nShall lean upon her mouth, and she will wake\\nAnd through her eyes of flame shall all men see.\\nAnd through her lustrous lips shall all men take\\nMeasure and message of life s mystery.\\n91", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0103.jp2"}, "104": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0104.jp2"}, "105": {"fulltext": "THE MAGICIAN, DEATH\\n93", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0105.jp2"}, "106": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0106.jp2"}, "107": {"fulltext": "THE MAGICIAN, DEATH\\nI\\nFOR I do hate thee, O thou spectre Death\\nPale moonbeams flit between thy naked ribs.\\nThere is a hollow darkness o er thy hips,\\nAnd elfin lights gleam from unlustrous eyes,\\nWTiat canst thou give me The brown earth and\\nworms,\\nAnd darkness, and the gloom of narrow graves.\\nBorne on my mother s breast. Thou mockest\\nme\\nI shall be far as farthest focal sun\\nFrom the warm earth and waving grass and leaf.\\nI want the earth and warmth of breathing men.\\nAnd eyes that speak, and hands that clasp, and\\nlips\\nThat thrill me with a voice and touch of light.\\nAnd Hft me out of depths of dull despair\\nInto a heaven of hope and happiness.\\nI do not want your cold and stately saints.\\nSculptured, and niched, and cold in marble\\nshrouds,\\n95", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0107.jp2"}, "108": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nNor your angelic far off symphonies,\\nThat have no motion, light, or breathed form.\\nLeave me my earth, O thou dread spectre Death\\nAnd keep your heaven for cold and icy saints.\\nFor I do hate thee, thou dread messenger\\nAnd the white moon that shines between thy\\nbars.\\nAnd makes locked lines and circles on my bed.\\nII\\nCome nearer, nearer, thou dread phantom, Deatl\u00c2\u00bb!\\nThou art not quite so hideous as I deemed.\\nIs it a mist of moonbeams that awakes\\nSoft lines of light, that wrap thee round, and drape\\nThe crags and nodes of thy bleak nudity?\\nAnd yet a light breaks through, and swiftly makes\\nFacets of crystal, glimmering, and flames\\nThat glint and gleam in dusky realms of light.\\nLo and thou smilest. And the vista ed past\\nOf the drear time I ve given to the earth\\nVapors and fades into a memory.\\nAnd the dark future, black with bitter fears.\\nLeaps into sudden lamps of hope and joy.\\nVoices of men grow hoarse and bitter harsh\\nAnd a dim echo steals upon mine ears\\nOf far off slumb rous notes that dream and dwell\\n96", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0108.jp2"}, "109": {"fulltext": "The Magician, Death\\nOn the discordant chords of my weak soul,\\nAnd wake responses that in turn grow pale,\\nAnd vanishing in Memory s hidden cells.\\nRecall some long-lost melody of heaven.\\nCome nearer, thou magician, nearer still.\\nI cannot touch thee, spirit as thou art.\\nBut through the glass of thy transparency\\nI see a heaven leaning on the earth,\\nA weary earth uplift itself to heaven.\\nIll\\nNearer, and nearer still, thou Angel Death\\nWhy, thou art beautiful, as poet s dreams.\\nOr the fair forms that sweep into the light\\nWhere glow the furnaces of genius.\\nThy rounded shape doth palpitate with life,\\nAnd from thy wings new-budded breathes the\\nscent\\nOf Paradisial fields, Elysian plains,\\nPeopled with spirits fairer than the dawn.\\nOh earth, dull clod, brown, odorless, effete,\\nI hate thee, and thy creeping parasites.\\nLift me, O Death unloose these weary bands,\\nUnlock this prison house and set me free\\nAnd thou and I will steal from the dark realm,\\nGlide through the stately avenues of stars,\\n7 97", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0109.jp2"}, "110": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd spurn the enwreathed cloudlets to emerge\\nIn the pavilion palaces of God.\\nO Death my sister, lift thy lustrous eyes,\\nAnd open wide the impearled ivory gate.\\nLo the enchanted islands of the blest\\nLo the broad azures of eternity\\nBend down thine ears. In their voluted shells\\nMurmur the wavelets of th eternal sea.\\nKiss me, my sister seal those burning lids,\\n(Gently I pray thee for I am growing faint)\\nTill the most High doth break thy signet ring,\\nSoftly unfolding to my wondering eyes\\nLest the too sudden joy should paralyze.\\nThe unimpassioned blisses He has stored,\\nThe unimagined marvels He has made.\\n98", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0110.jp2"}, "111": {"fulltext": "THE SOUL S FAREWELL\\n99\\nLofC.", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0111.jp2"}, "112": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0112.jp2"}, "113": {"fulltext": "THE SOUL S FAREWELL\\nTHEY whispered T is over he s dead\\nand I heard a faint sigh,\\n\\\\Vhere I hovered the shadows among, and the\\ndead form nigh,\\nI saw them draw down the white veils o er the\\npitiful eyes\\nClose the mouth and I gazed without fear or a\\ngasp of surprise\\nAt that which was I which was now in the\\nsilence and cold\\nA Shape, but a beautiful Shape, in the perfected\\nmould\\nThat God gave to men and that men in their\\npride, feign to be\\nThe face and the figure of Him who is formless\\nto see.\\nAnd I thought. Was this I? did I live in that\\nprison of death?\\nDid I look through those eyes? did I trouble\\nthose lips with my breath\\nlOI", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0113.jp2"}, "114": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd where did Death knock? and where was the\\nbreach through whose mouth\\nThe Spirit escaped as escapes the bound brook\\nwhen the South\\nBreathes soft on the ice-floes, unloosing the grip\\nof their locks,\\nAnd sends them imprisoned to wanton round red,\\npatient rocks?\\nAnd where did I dwell? in what organ or cham-\\nber divine\\nDid I lavish the gifts of the Giver, or pour the\\nred wine\\nOf thought till the frail tabernacle did tremble\\nand throb\\nIn the reanimation, found voice in the psalm or\\nthe sob?\\nAnd where, when the spirit had spoken, did she\\nfly on the wings\\nOf desire to the heart of creation the fountain\\nof things?\\nAnd how did she move, or was moved, by the\\nphantoms around?\\nOr reach to the orbit of life, and in fancy was\\nfound\\nIn realms where she was an alien where angels\\nhad trod\\nThen a voice whispered near me No aliens in\\nthe realms of God\\nI02", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0114.jp2"}, "115": {"fulltext": "The Soul s Farewell\\nAnd I looked and behold there grew out from\\nthe mirror of life\\nFair faces and forms I had known in the king-\\ndom of strife.\\nBut their faces were red with the dawn, and their\\neyes greatly shone,\\nLike the foreheads fire-tongued which the Spirit\\nhad breathed upon.\\nAnd the flames of their hair were blown back\\nfrom their brows far behind,\\nAnd their garments drew out and were floated\\non waves of the wind\\nAnd their voices vibrated like sounds that are\\nheard from afar.\\nAs when in night s tremulous silence star speaketh\\nto star.\\nAnd they said When in fancy thou fledst across\\nthe wide zone,\\nThat is drawn between spirit and matter, didst\\nbelieve thee alone?\\nOr when once again thou didst enter that palace\\nof sighs,\\nAnd dream of the dawn that is hidden in folds\\nof the skies.\\nDidst thou think in that puissance of pride, which\\nGod leaveth to man,\\nLest the truth of his littleness snap the frail\\nstrength of life s span,\\n103", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0115.jp2"}, "116": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThat the marvels of sun-stars, blind worlds that\\nheave them afar,\\nAs the chargers blood-maddened that plunge in\\nthe lightning of war,\\nWere made but for thee and thy race? that\\nomnipotence vast\\nWere plastic and fictile for thee and thy life\\ndream that s past?\\nLo knowledge begins where Death ends the\\nphantasm of life\\nLo there the vast peace of his kingdoms un-\\njarred by man s strife.\\nLook down where the tapers of thoughtful minds\\nwave to and fro.\\nLook up where the sun shines resplendent in\\nTruth s happy glow.\\nAnd thine earth is a pinpoint in space, and the\\nthews of men s might\\n^Vax weak as the gossamer spun from the fire-\\nflies at night.\\nAnd yet thou art sad. Well, go back to thy\\nprison and see,\\nWouldst thou take up again the tent fallen, and\\nmake it for thee\\nIn the desert the place of thy baitings, and for-\\never to rest.\\nWhen the wild winds hiss through it, unfeeling,\\nunshackled, unblest.\\n104", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0116.jp2"}, "117": {"fulltext": "The Soul s Farewell\\nThen once more I stooped down, and watched\\nclosely the tent where I d dwelt,\\nIt was cold as the tent of the ice-floes the spring-\\ntime doth melt.\\nBeneath the closed eyes there was darkness that\\nstreamed on the face,\\nWhere the sculptor already had smoothed the\\nlines I used trace.\\nAnd the pitiful hands lay unheaving and crossed\\non the breast\\nWhere clustered a handful of lilies, and a sob un-\\nrepressed\\nBroke out from the lips of a formless unknown,\\nand a grief-buried head\\nLay still and forlorn as the symbols of death that\\nencompassed the dead.\\nAnd memory threw a pale shade on the race I\\nhad run,\\nAnd the moonlight was sickly and pallid and\\ngray was the sun.\\nI saw but the weeping of winters the soughs of\\nthe wind\\nBroke sad as the dread misereres when chancels\\nare blind,\\nAnd the liglit hidden under the altar. Will the\\nChrist never rise\\nWill the dawn never roll back the stone that\\nsepulchres the skies?\\n105", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0117.jp2"}, "118": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd the twilights of summer pearl-tinted, whose\\nloneliness mars\\nThe mournful meekness of flowers, the sad face\\nof the stars.\\nOh life, thou wert lonely and drear, though my\\nGod was anear,\\nAnd my days were sepulchred in sadness, and\\nlove insincere.\\nAnd yet, O companion O comrade in fray and\\nin fight,\\nTis dishonor to leave thee alone to the night, to\\nthe night\\nOf the grave where Death s servants disrobe thee,\\nfor thy God is afar,\\nPale bride thou art left to the handmaids of\\nDeath to unmake and to mar.\\nBut a sister soul spoke, and her voice with emo-\\ntion was tossed\\nLike the lights of the seekers that seek in the\\nquagmires the lost\\nThe vase He hath made He hath broken He will\\nbuild it anew\\nFrom dust fragments His mercy hath hid neath\\nthe grass and the dew.\\nOh, thou spirit, rejoice thou art free as a bird\\nthat uncaged\\n1 06", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0118.jp2"}, "119": {"fulltext": "The Soul s Farewell\\nBreaks madly to freedom with raptures, unguessed\\nat, ungauged.\\nThy dream it is over thou rt awake and the\\nghosts of the night\\nFade dim in the red of the dawn, in the gold of\\nthe light.\\nIt was death in the night it is life in the fairness\\nof day.\\nNay, linger not now near thy moulding and vest-\\nure of clay.\\nThy place is beyond where the star cycles ever\\nhave trod\\nAnd thy sisters await thee, fair soul, in the realms\\nof God.\\nSay Farewell once again the kind earth will\\nperform the rest.\\nTill the day when the dead shall come forth at\\nthe Master s behest.\\nThen I stooped and I pressed my hot lips to the\\ncheeks and the brow,\\nCold as marble, and stiff as the clay that is cut\\nby the plough\\nAnd I shuddered as shudders the soul when it\\ntouches the flesh,\\nMark the babe how it screams neath the bands\\nthat the spirit enmesh\\n107", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0119.jp2"}, "120": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThen Farewell and my earth was a star and I\\nwandered apace\\nThrough the streets where the suns are gold-dust\\nin the light of God s face.", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0120.jp2"}, "121": {"fulltext": "SENTAN THE CULDEE\\n109", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0121.jp2"}, "122": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0122.jp2"}, "123": {"fulltext": "SENTAN THE CULDEE\\nt HIS is the vision of a man of God,\\nLong efe the times grezv saddest, and the din\\nOf hutnan voices silenced in the depths\\nThe diapason deep of God, most high.\\nNot where the lilies nod, the roses flame,\\nAnd gods go glimmering through leafy aisles,\\nAnd sons of men grow wanton in the chase,\\nOr mad with lust of battle and of blood\\nNot even where my saintly brethren dwell\\nBy streams half-haunted by the Pagan Gods,\\nHalf consecrate by Christian rite and prayer,\\n]My saints, whose daily orisons arise,\\nAnd curve, like incense, round the feet of God\\nNot there I dwell, but on this beetling crag.\\nWhose forehead touches heaven s vestibule,\\nWhose feet are planted in the seething sea;\\nHere, on this sullen rock, storm-shaken.\\nAnd sea-lashed when the tempest waxes strong,\\nDo I, the Culdee, Sentan, wear my days,\\nIII", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0123.jp2"}, "124": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd dream my nights, in violence with God,\\nIf haply one sad vision of my youth,\\nOne dark experience shall but move aside.\\nFrom the dim waving curtains of my mind.\\nAnd leave me God s best gift, His peace, once\\nmore.\\nWilt hearken, for the burden of my grief\\nLifts from my weary shoulders, when I tell.\\nOnce and again, my sin and my remorse\\nII\\nWhere a dark river broadens to the sea,\\nDreaming, and mirroring in inky depths\\nUncolored forms of leaves and trees and sky,\\nThere stretches inwards many weary miles\\nA gray moor, never lighted by the sun.\\nBut made more desolate in summer-time,\\nWhen a wan light creeps swiftly over crags,\\nAnd darkens them, and makes the lonely hern\\nBlink, and slirill out for his beloved gloom.\\nThere the black hills, cut into blacker teeth\\nThat bite the sky, and foam with whitened mist.\\nMake a dark rampart from the outer world,\\nAnd bid all sweetness and all light away.\\nThere was our laura. There the beloved cells.\\nWhere for the weary frame was no repose\\n112", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0124.jp2"}, "125": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nNo space, no warmth, no shelter from the sun.\\nThe dews did wet us in the summer nights,\\nThe rains did pierce us in the winter day.\\nYet there was peace, and love, and God s high\\ngrace\\nAt morn, God s Blessed Bread, and in the eve\\nThe Holy Word that sank into our hearts.\\nSweetened our lips, made music in our ears.\\nYet who would dream it? speak it? there, e en\\nthere,\\nPlaying with bodies that were shadowless,\\nith souls that shared angelic purity.\\nThe tempter came and won. ^Vas it worth while,\\nWhen in the world outside such easy prey\\nFell to his hands, to trouble us poor monks,\\nWhose feet already walked the pearly floors\\nThat pave the many mansions of our God\\nAnd yet he came, and laid a bitter siege,\\nAnd burst the bulwarks and the battlements,\\nBuilt by the midnight prayer, the burning scourge,\\nAround the treasure-chamber of my God,\\nAnd swept my soul, as easy as that wind\\nWafts its full-bosomed burden o er the sea,\\nDown to that realm of never-ending night.\\nWhose mighty gates, annealed with storm and fire.\\nSwing slowly inwards for each hapless soul,\\nNever swing outwards for a soul redeemed.\\n8 113", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0125.jp2"}, "126": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nIII\\nIt happened thus. In the scriptorium\\nI labored nay, it was not labor lost,\\nFor labor lost its painful self in love.\\nThe hours flew by on golden-tipped wings,\\nAnd dropped their gold and pearls on my palette,\\nUntil I made the leading letters shine\\nLike jewels blazing amidst dusky hair\\nAnd all men stared, and in their wonder cried\\nPictor Angelicus For me alone\\nSuch glory could not last, for were it thus\\nHeaven had no guerdon, half so fair, so sweet,\\nAs work in exile, and the love of men.\\nBut one day dreaming o er a faultless blue.\\nThat rivalled heaven on its sunniest day.\\nAnd thinking would I blend it with my gold,\\nOr would the gentler silver suit it best,\\nA roll was placed before me to inscribe.\\nI looked the letters over wond ringly.\\nThought I had never seen such workmanship\\nStudied each line and circle, painted bird,\\nSymbol uncouth, and pyramid, and square\\nSerpents that leaped athwart the creamy page,\\nApis, an ibis, and the mystic signs\\nOf Isis and Osiris then at once\\nI passed from symbols unto symbolized,\\n114", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0126.jp2"}, "127": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nFrom words to meanings all the hidden lore\\nOf Egypt, and of India, and of Greece,\\nSlept in this vellum, till I dreamed and dreamed,\\nAnd let my fancy wander libertine\\nTo questionings of God and all His works,\\nThe great Eternal s essence and His form\\nAnd thence to man, as sprung from God, and\\nthence\\nTo life, its source, its issues, and its end.\\nWas this black world, and man, its parasite,\\nSpun through blind space, by demon whims or\\nchance.\\nFlashed for a moment in a lurid light,\\nThat marked its seams and wrinkled ugliness,\\nThen plunged in night more merciful again?\\nOr did it flame a pure star in the sky,\\nThronged with a radiant galaxy of souls.\\nHeld by its angel fore the face of God,\\nWho, wond ring at the magic of His work.\\nLoved His own beauteous essence all the more,\\nFor all the wondrous beauties He had made\\nVexed with such subtleties of thought as these,\\nI rifled all the cabinets of God,\\nAnd in a lethargy of ecstasy,\\nProbed every secret cell of my own soul,\\nDived into hidden crypts, and even there,\\nUnheeding the dread sacrilege and sin,\\n115", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0127.jp2"}, "128": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nI sought for fragments of a life divine\\nFlowing in torrents from the throne of God.\\nT was wrong t was wrong I should have left\\nsuch lore\\nTo saintly scholar, or to learned saint.\\nIV\\nSheathing its radiance with enfolded wings,\\nA form of blinding light before me stood,\\nLooked at me, beckoned I arose and went.\\nDown through dim, hollow spaces, where the light\\nFlickers and fades through ever dark ning\\nrealms,\\nCaverned and gloomy into darkest night\\nWhere e en the angelic figure paled away\\nInto dim spectral mists of waving wings\\nAnd shadowed outstretched arms we flashed\\nand came\\nTo a great gate, annealed with storm and fire.\\nHe smote it with his flaming sword, and, lo\\nThe gates swung slowly inward, and revealed\\nThe realm of darkness, and of night and death,\\nThe kingdom of the lost sad souls that pine\\nFor one dim ray, shot from that burning sun.\\nWhich they, in happier days, stared at too free,\\nAnd gained in lieu the murkiness of hell.\\nii6", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0128.jp2"}, "129": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nAnd all the princes proud stood up to greet\\nAnd You are wounded even worse than we,\\nYou have become like us, and your fell pride\\nIs brought so low, even so low as ours.\\nAnd as they rose from ebon thrones, and looked,\\nAnd spoke in voices muffled and distressed,\\nDim flames would flicker, like a falling star.\\nFrom hands, and brows, and lips, and eyes, and\\nhair.\\nThen falter into blackness once again.\\nAs a black brand, half-eaten by the fire,\\nFlames into yellow brightness at a breath.\\nThen curdles into sparks that leap and die,\\nSo from the sooty darkness of the damned.\\nWhene er they spoke or looked, or passed a sign,\\nA flame would reach unto the loathsome air.\\nThen die in midnight murkiness again.\\nAnd there was neither anger nor revenge.\\nNor that tumultuous passion, that will speak\\nIn hissing tones, through clenched teeth and lips,\\nNor eyebrows lifted in dumb, silent scorn.\\nBut, oh the sadness of those brilliant eyes.\\nThe mute despair, the silent agony.\\nAs one should say The weary years shall roll\\nTheir slow and solemn burden round the sun.\\nAnd suns shall fade, and spheres be crushed and\\nrolled,\\n117", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0129.jp2"}, "130": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAs a monk s parchment shrivels in the fire,\\nBut never may we see the Hght again\\nThe living light that beats around the Throne,\\nAnd spreads throughout the universe of space.\\nAnd kindles suns, and streams through stellar voids,\\nTo touch pale planets into lustrous moons.\\nNew forms shall rise to fill the vacant thrones,\\nJ hat stare at God bid Him create again\\nAnd we, the demigods of lofty skies,\\nSporting, like children, round the feet of God,\\nLie here, forgotten and unknown, save when\\nSome novel torture is devised for us,\\nTo make our hell more keener, and our lot\\nMore doleful than these wretched hybrids here,\\nHalf brute, half angel, who forswore their God,\\nE en when He d bent Him down from His high\\nplace,\\nAnd linked His lofty nature unto theirs.\\nBut when they saw upon my outstretched palm.\\nWhich I, to deprecate their wrath and hate,\\nTurned towards them with humble suppliancy,\\nThe lines where holy oils were faintly traced,\\nAnd a great light broke in upon their minds,\\nThat I, even I, was yet in truth a priest,\\nA great hope shone from out their sunken eyes.\\nAs lights that, flashed along a rocky coast,\\nWarn, and bear hope to shipwrecked mariners.\\nii8", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0130.jp2"}, "131": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nAnd, lo they led me to an altar-throne,\\nBuilt out of blackest ebony, and draped\\nIn blackest dyes, like dreary catafalque.\\nThe priestly robes were black, amice and alb,\\nAnd I was clad with form, and rite, and prayer.\\nBy black and naked acolytes of hell.\\nThe Mass was one that I used love to say\\nIntroit of Sedulius, saint and bard\\nFor t would appear, the hope traditional\\nThat Mass in hell will quench its burning fires.\\nLeans upon Mary s Mass no other rite\\nHath such celestial force and potency.\\nThe rite progressed. And now the white host\\nlay\\nLike a pale planet on a sable sky.\\nWith just a dim and mystic aureole\\nWhere the round edge did lean upon the stone.\\nThe mills of hell stood still the ceaseless\\nround\\nOf woes, and weeping, and the mournful chant\\nOf lost souls heaved in unavailing toil.\\nA million eyes did burn from out the gloom,\\nAnd starred the sulphurous and sooty air,\\nAnd all the princes of the nether courts\\nRose from their thrones in stateliest attitudes.\\n119", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0131.jp2"}, "132": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nVI\\nI took the host into my trembling hands,\\nBlessed it, and with white and tremulous lips\\nI tried to speak the dread and sacred words.\\nBut, lo my parched tongue clave unto my mouth,\\nI could not speak, nor cry, nor utter word.\\nAs if a ghostly nightmare haunted me.\\nA whimpering trembled through the halls of hell.\\nOnce more I tried, and prayed in thought, and\\nleaned\\nMy arms upon the altar. Deep I drew\\nMy breath. I heard the panting of their breasts.\\nAnd felt the flashing of expectant eyes.\\nIn vain My memory failed not one weak word\\nThat veils our God beneath His humblest guise.\\nWould leave my lips. And then a stifled groan\\nRolled through the vaults and architraves of hc-11.\\nA third time I essayed. All hell stood still.\\nI heard the beating of their hearts the breath\\nDeep-drawn, and felt the heat of burning eyes\\nOf princes and archangels fanning me.\\nI drew a long deep sigh, and pursed my lips.\\nNo not a word came forth, but the white host\\nCrumbled to dust beneath my palsied hands.\\nThe chalice burst, and all the ruddy wine\\nStreamed on the floor, and flashed in ruby flames,\\nJ20", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0132.jp2"}, "133": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nAnd ran through all the channels of the place,\\nAnd washed the thrones on which the princes\\nsate.\\nAnd God great God grant me that ne er again,\\nHere or hereafter, shall I hear that wail.\\nThat long, deep, mournful, painful, passioned wail.\\nThat broke from heart and lip, and curving round\\nSwept like a tempest of untold despair\\nThrough roofs and vaults, and architraves of hell,\\nAnd pulsing through the interminable depths\\nIt moaned and sobbed, and swelled, and paused\\nand died.\\nYet the proud princes never uttered word,\\nBut leaning forward on their trembling hands\\nFaces that blanched beneath such dread reverse,\\nAnd crowned with aureoles of sulphurous flame,\\nI heard their tears hiss on the burning floors\\nAnd I too wept, and woke to find my tears\\nHad blurred and blotted all my labored work,\\nAnd Abbot Ailbe stood, and gazed at me.\\nVII\\nSentan, my child, Satan hath tempted thee,\\nLike wheat hath sifted thee, and kept the grain.\\nAnd left thee this poor chaff for poor it is\\nHe pointed to the roll of Porphyry\\n121", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0133.jp2"}, "134": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nI know it well, lore with but little truth,\\nOpium dreams, and Orient reveries,\\nAnd all the twilight visions of the East,\\nThe truth foreshadowing, but not the truth\\nFor we may doubt whether the angry lies\\nThat hiss their fierce denial towards God,\\nBlaspheme His name, and contravene His word,\\nMay yet not bear one half the ruth and dole\\nBorne to sad souls that do not keep the watch,\\nBy those pale spectres of philosophy,\\nSpecious yet false, content with half-beliefs.\\nThat woo the fancy from the stern, cold truths,\\nForged in the fiery workshops of the Lord,\\nBut chilled by frozen contact with the world.\\nI know not, Sentan, whence those bitter tears,\\nWhether they fall as crystals from thy heart.\\nBroken by grief, or opened by mistrust\\nBut for thy soul s sake, and to humble him,\\nWho in his craft hath deeply humbled thee.\\nLeave thou this work, thy stylus, and thy brush.\\nAnd all the wonders which thy hand has made,\\n]\\\\Laking thee, too, perhaps, high-borne and vain\\nLeave thou this laura and thy brethren dear.\\nAnd me, who love thee, though I banish thee\\nAnd where a high rock beetles o er the sea.\\nIts shadow dark ning at the mid-day hour\\nThat grave of sainted Declan there abide\\n122", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0134.jp2"}, "135": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nThy bed the heather, salted by sea-winds\\nThy books the open manuscripts of God\\nThy food vvhate er the sea-fowl bring to thee.\\nOnce and again, thou mayst near approach\\nThe cells, where dwell the brethren of Ardmor,\\nTo shrive thee, and receive the Paschal guest.\\nBut thou shalt shun all intercourse with men,\\nAnd love the silent solitudes of God.\\nPerchance in some far off and distant time,\\nWhen thou, through fires of discipline and prayer.\\nThe dim mists cleansed from thy half-blinded\\neyes,\\nHast, in the sacred silence of the seas,\\nPondered the dread exorbitance of God\\nThou mayst go forth to see the blinding face\\nOf Him, to whom the stars are blackened slags.\\nAnd angels faces blurred and stained with sin.\\nTake then, O brother, take this kiss of peace\\nFrom him who loves thee, though he smiteth\\nthee.\\nThou knowest, I know, we shall not meet again.\\nVIII\\nAnd hence, upon this sullen rock, storm-shaken,\\nAnd buffeted by every wind that blows.\\nDo I, the Culdee, Sentan, wear my days,\\n123", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0135.jp2"}, "136": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd dream my nights, in violence with God.\\nHere is my couch this purple bed of heath,\\nTyrian in color, spiced and perfumed\\nMy canopy, the colored clouds that roll\\nAnd shake their folds from zenith unto sea,\\nAnd dye the wavelets saffron, red, and gold.\\nAnd the sweet gentle creatures of the deep.\\nSea-pie and sanderling, mallard-teal and gull.\\nCome to me, chirping, in pretence of song.\\nAs if to break the spell of solitude.\\nAnd when a bark comes curtseying o er the deep.\\nMariners bare their heads, and dip their flags,\\nNot unto me, Sentan, the sinful man.\\nBut unto sainted Declan, him who sleeps\\nWhere that Phoenician tower and obelisk\\nSweeps with the sun from early morn to dusk\\nAnd all the maimed, the halted, and the blind.\\nAnd they whose flesh is coated with the sin.\\nThe sin and sorrow of dread leprosy.\\nCome to me, shall I say? like Him of old.\\nWhose hands dropped mercy, and whose sacred lips\\nShed balm and fragrance on the sinful heart.\\nI bid them go, and wash in Declan s well\\nThey go, and they are strengthened and made\\nwhole,\\nPraise be to Declan, and his Most High God.\\nAnd am I tempted? Sometimes in the eves\\n124", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0136.jp2"}, "137": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nDreams of the scriptorium torture me,\\nFor I have seen such wondrous coloring,\\nSuch depths and shades and lights of sky and sea,\\n(God, the great Artist, ever humbles me)\\nThat I would give half of my years in heaven\\nTo catch the lights that dye the purple e en,\\nAnd touch my vellum into another sky.\\nIX\\nYet, had I not the holy word of God,\\nThe rapt prophetic vision of Isai\\nThe rhythmic sorrow of the erring king,\\nThe tender tale of that thrice holy youth\\nWho loved, and was beloved of the Lord,\\nI should not be untaught unlessoned.\\nFor Nature, in her wild or gentle moods,\\nReflex or echo of the realms enskied,\\nPreaches God s verities unceasingly.\\nThe patient rocks that front the sun and storm.\\nAnd never chide the chafing waves beneath.\\nTell me of Him, who, throned above the stars.\\nLooks calmly on, unfretted by the sin.\\nThe ceaseless madness of humanity\\nAnd those unreasoning waters here around.\\nThat shrink from earth, or if they do approach.\\nSwing their vast bulk against this stubborn rock,\\n125", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0137.jp2"}, "138": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWhat are they but the voices and the types\\nThe ceaseless pulsings of a restless race\\nBut, oh at night, when thwart the velvet pall\\nA silver ribbon touches pole and pole.\\nAnd I behold the myriad suns that flash\\nTheir splendors into space, and with one voice\\nVolley their thunders, as they wheel and stretch\\nLong lines of light across the trembling sky\\nThen as if some great spirit from on high.\\nShould twist his fingers in my hair, and lift\\nThis poor, frail frame into the empyrean,\\nI float and swim in pulsing seas of light\\nFrom gloom to glory, and from blackened\\nspace\\nInto the blinding splendors of some star,\\nAnd thence again into a night of gloom.\\nAnd thence into a radiance so serene\\nA pale and tremulous ocean whose waves\\nWash gently upwards, and then gently break\\nIn murmured meekness at the throne of God.\\nAnd then I pause, and rapt from out myself,\\nAbsorbed and lost in some deep tranquil dream.\\nAll, all is merged in one great, blissful thought\\nI am in God, and God o ershadows me\\nAnd then, once more, the jaded spirit flags\\nIn its too lofty flight, and with closed wings,\\nOnce more is prisoned in its earthly cage,\\n126", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0138.jp2"}, "139": {"fulltext": "Sentan the Culdee\\nAnd once again is fronted with its sin,\\nAnd once again looks through its fleshy bars\\nAt that sad picture, framed in rings of death\\nBlack rocks, gray shingle, and the sullen sea.\\nSo spake the man of God, the gray Culdee,\\nLong ere these leaden days, from which the sun\\nOf Gods sweet Face hath 7 anished into night,\\nAnd in the depths His voice hath died away.\\n127", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0139.jp2"}, "140": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0140.jp2"}, "141": {"fulltext": "GACHLA THE DRUIDESS\\n129", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0141.jp2"}, "142": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0142.jp2"}, "143": {"fulltext": "GACHLA THE DRUIDESS\\nyj RELIC of an old-time rune,\\nTold o er the turf and fagot blaze,\\nOr in the harvest fields at noon.\\nIn the far off, the halcyon days.\\nPride, and a Pagan, and the Christ,\\nHarper and priests in kingly hall;\\nA youth and maid in tourncy-tryst,\\nA blinded girl, and that is all.\\nForth from the Druid tents the challenge went\\nTo all the aliens who believe in Christ,\\nWhite-stoled, white-livered, shuddering sheep\\nthat bleat\\nTheir piteous psalms unto a heedless sky,\\nBut in the clash of arms, the front of fight.\\nFreeze the upleaping blood, nor feel the pangs\\nOf fierce delight, when lances leap and swords\\nMake summer lightning on ensanguined\\nclouds\\n131", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0143.jp2"}, "144": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThis challenge. And because your beardless\\npriests\\nWere hardly fit for tourney, where the arms\\nAre swift and sudden play with razored words,\\nThat leap from sheath and scabbard of high\\nthought,\\nThis challenge comes not from our bearded\\nsires,\\nHeirs and custodians of the secret lore.\\nThat makes man s benison, and his power\\nBut our dear child, child of our oaks and streams.\\nBegot of our great Father, Sun, and Lord of\\nLight,\\nGachla, will meet the princeliest of your line,\\nAnd with fair words, without or fraud or guile,\\nWill prove the honor of her sire, the Sun,\\nThe grave dishonor and the uncourtly gift\\nOf grace unto a felon-god your gibbet-king.\\nNow, Patrick, of all living men most meek,\\nWas wroth and sore at such defiant words\\nMore wroth and sore, in sooth, because he knew\\nThe poverty of thought, the vesture foul.\\nThe beggar s gaberdine of reasoning,\\nThat wrapt such vain and proud philosophy.\\nHe walked alone by silent streams, and thought.\\nShall 1 give honor to these Pagan priests,\\n132", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0144.jp2"}, "145": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nBy the obeisance of humility,\\nOr shall I send them scorn for their scorn?\\nAlas that the hot fires should still subsist\\nTo forge the barbs of bitter hate and scorn\\nThen he was ware of a soft hand that stole\\nInto his palm, and a soft voice that spake\\nO Father, let me go to champion Christ.\\nLet the contempt of these proud. Pagan priests\\nBe met with scorn such piteous scorn that I,\\nEustace, the least of all Christ s little ones,\\nShould go and enter these dread Druid lists,\\nAnd harness to the conquering car of Christ\\nThose who reject His wisdom and His love.\\nThe gray saint looked into the youthful eyes.\\nShining with trust and lustrous with desire\\nThe gray saint ran his thin and withered hand\\nThrough the ripe clusters of the gold that hung\\nIn rings around the temples of the boy.\\nThe gray saint said Ay, go, for so God wills\\nGo forth, and fear not knife, nor lance, nor sword,\\nNor spell of darkness, nor the woven charm,\\nNor terror of the night, nor thunder crash,\\nRaised by the wiles of these grave Pagan seers.\\nNought shall molest thee, though the trump of\\ndoom\\nShould clang and clash upon thy smitten ears", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0145.jp2"}, "146": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd all the sprites of darkness should arise,\\nEncompass thee with death, and stifle thee\\nWith the uprisen smoke and stench of hell.\\nBut one thing shalt thou fear the subtle spells,\\nAnd the dark charms of this proud Druid girl.\\nFor, vanquished as she shall be, she will try\\nSoft assonance of voice, soft pleading dalliance.\\nHeed not the curve of arm, the colored lip.\\nThe snaky hair, the piteous eloquence\\nOf eyes that pray thee, Let me conquer thee.\\nBut if the weakness of our common flesh.\\nThat bears its treason to the worms and death,\\nShould bid thee yield, and sink beneath her wiles.\\nThou knowest the sign, the mystic sign that\\nflings\\nDread consternation mongst the nether powers.\\nForget it not but humble these proud hosts.\\nCome back victorious unto me and Christ.\\nThe great Sun spun throughout the empty sky,\\nAnd from his chariot-wheels did leap the flames\\nThat burned a pathway for the fiery god.\\nHe looked through skies and seas, and space, and\\ndwelt\\nOn the fair form and the uplifted head\\nOf one who was a queen unto her race.\\nHer raven hair gleamed purple in the glow\\n134", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0146.jp2"}, "147": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nThat made the rubies in her armlets burn\\nAnd her dark eyes shone kistrous from the eaves\\nOf darker brows, now bent in silent scorn\\nOn Eustace, child and athlete unto Christ.\\nThe great oaks threw their serpent branches\\nwide,\\nAnd dappled all the faces of the priests\\nGrim priests, that stood immovable and still,\\nAs the white icicles of beards that fell\\nLike the long sweep of frozen cataracts.\\nAnd through the gloom and silence that did chill\\nThe heart of Eustace, gleamed some fair sweet\\nbuds.\\nThe white flower-faces of the little maids.\\nWho held the long train of their sombre queen,\\nAnd wondered, wide-eyed, at the venturous youth.\\nAnd gave him pity for his dolorous fate.\\nAnd farther back, amongst the midnight shades.\\nGlinted a spear-top or a helmet crest\\nOf silent warriors, who ringed with steel\\nThe sad death-circle of the Druid rites.\\nFor here was placed a rough-hewn dolmen stone,\\nShouldered by rough-hewn props of syenite;\\nAnd here the dial, that marked the fatal hour,\\nAnd here the cup that held the victim s blood.\\nAnd Eustace saw and shuddered, and the girl\\nSmiled, and adjusting serpent necklet, said\\n135", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0147.jp2"}, "148": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWho art thou? and the great anguine inn\\nrocked,\\nAnd swayed around the milk-white of her neck\\nAnd the gold serpents that entwined her wrists\\nDrew their cold coils together; and the spleen\\nAnd acid of their venomed eyes did spit,\\nAnd seemed to soil the vesture virginal,\\nAnd the pure sweetness of the Christian child.\\nEustace, he said, the least of all the lambs\\nThat find their shelter in the fold of Christ.\\nEustace she cried, Eustace she lisped\\nagain.\\nLifting red lips to hiss her angry scorn.\\nAnd the light Latin tripped along her tongue.\\nAmid the roar of Gaelic gutturals.\\nAs chirp of sea-lark o er the smoking sea,\\nAbove the thunders of the shoaling surge.\\nWhy did your gray-beard priest send here a girl\\nTo tilt and tourney with a Druidess?\\nGo back, child, to your cradle and your nurse.\\nAnd tell your whimpering and droning priests\\nThat Gachla, child and priestess of the Sun,\\nDisdains to shield the honor of her God\\nFrom such small measurement of disrepute\\nAs beardless boy or trembling girl can mete.\\nThen Eustace, stung by all her taunts, or driven\\nBy the white paraclete that held his soul,\\n136", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0148.jp2"}, "149": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nMade answer calmly Worthy cause doth need\\nBut little championing, T is the doubt and dread\\nThat clamors for assurance or for proof.\\nIn the high forehead and the regal front\\nOf (lay there shineth one particular star,\\nAVhich needs no purchased eloquence to prove\\nThat there it is and thence come warmth and\\nlight\\nUnto all things that see, and touch, and feel.\\nAnd so we reason, work was never wrought\\nExcept by cunning hand and dext rous sleight\\nAnd never hand was guided but by mind\\nAnd the vast mind that rules the world is God\\nSo they crossed swords and so was Gachla ware\\nThat from the lips of sucklings and of babes\\nMight issue hoary wisdom and high truth.\\nAnd she recoiled and cautious grew, and then,\\nVeiling her anger under velvet words.\\nLike wary advocates, began to plead\\nBy your own words I judge you by the plea\\nThat all our worship and our reverence\\nAre due to the vast central mind that holds\\nIn lease the lives of men, and tree, and shrub,\\nAnd all that lives and breathes beneath the moon.\\nLife giveth life and life is but the heat,\\nThe inmost fire that pierceth all the earth,\\nAnd floweth in balmy streamlets that divide\\n137", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0149.jp2"}, "150": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThrough veins and wrinkled ducts of trees and\\nmen.\\nIn the deep earth it hides it sleeps in clouds,\\nAnd wakens in a thousand flaming messengers\\nOf wrath and ruin to a trembling world.\\nIt is a child and servant on our hearths,\\nAn angry Titan in its yellow rage.\\nAnd t is a demigod that springs from brain\\nAnd loin of him, our father, and our king,\\nSource of all light and heat, our God, the Sun.\\nAnd Eustace, reassured, made answer thus\\nYou greatly err in mingling soul and sense.\\nMatter and mind, the artist and his art.\\nThe torch is not its bearer, and the swords\\nOf light and heat that leap from out the sheath\\nThe fiery sheath and scabbard of the sun\\nAre but the weapons and the tools of Him\\nWho swings the orb^d furnace by a thread\\nAnd rings His fingers with His satellites.\\nLo, how He veils the splendors with His mists.\\nAnd blunts the vivid arrows of the heat,\\nAnd gently from the crucible distils\\nThe balm of warmth to all the chilly earth.\\nHave not your fathers told you how t was\\nwrought\\nHow a great darkness folded all the skies,", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0150.jp2"}, "151": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nAnd a Voice pierced it, and the Voice was Light.\\nAnd riven clouds rolled backwards from the\\nThrone,\\nAnd the great Sun upleap^d at the Voice,\\nAnd wheeled his fiery circuit through the skies.\\nThat was the light of sense and then arose\\nMan, shaped in mind, and moulded like to God.\\nAnd in his soul there shone another light.\\nWhich made Him arbiter and king of all,\\nAnd drew His trembling subjects to His feet.\\nThat was the light of reason. Last there came\\nThe Light supernal, that enlighteneth\\nWhoso cometh into this nether star;\\nAnd that was Christ, whose burning love for men\\nHath borne of His high Godhead the eclipse,\\nUntil the day when sun and gleaming stars\\nShall hide their borrowed light, and all the skies,\\nAnd all the furthermost domains of space,\\nAnd all the high empyrean of heaven,\\nShall glow and pulsate in the living light.\\nThat streams from the unveiled face of Him,\\nLord of all Life and Light to all His world.\\nHe ceased the iron circle closer drew.\\nAnd a strange light shone from the starred eyes\\nOf all the Pagan children who had heard\\nThis new evangel of the Light and God.\\nBut when the angry Druidess beheld\\n139", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0151.jp2"}, "152": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThe soft dews gleaming in the violets\\nOf eyes that erevvhile withered at the sight\\nOf blood and violence, she drew back and called\\nThe slaves of all her witchcraft and her wiles.\\nA dusk came down, and all the feathered trees\\nShivered and drew together with a moan.\\nThat seemed to breathe from out the earth, and\\ncreep\\nIn trembling leaf, and chilled blood of men.\\nAnd all the trembling pageant drew away,\\nAnd the child-faces paled into the gloom\\nAnd even the mailed warriors evanished.\\nThe youth and maiden stood alone, while deep\\nCalled unto deep of darkness and of death.\\nThen a pale dawn drew round the Druid girl.\\nLike marish phosphorescence gainst the night\\nHer eyes gleamed out in globes of yellow light,\\nAnd a dim nebule trembled in her hair.\\nLike demilune of goddess, or the nimbus starred,\\nThat breaks from the soaked brimstone of the lost.\\nShe shook her snaky tresses, and they fell.\\nAnd coiled and crept around her naked feet.\\nAnd the great serpent armlets loosed their folds,\\nAnd stretched in lengthened coils upon her breast\\nAnd the anguifieiim burst, and from its shell\\nSlid the black reptile, and embraced her neck\\n140", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0152.jp2"}, "153": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nIn burnished folds, whilst the moist, poisoned\\nmouth\\nSought hers in slimy lust, and the forked tongue\\nFlickering and red licked all the silvery flame\\nThat lit the moonlike pallor of her face.\\nThe darkness deepened, and the painful moan\\nOf the black forests rose, and shrilled aloud.\\nAnd all the tortured earth shrivelled and sank\\nUnder the glance importunate and stern\\nOf the red eye that glared from out the mists,\\nAnd burned the midnight murkiness of heaven.\\nThen a deep thunder boomed along the earth\\nIn sound-waves, ever-widening, that rolled\\nAs roll exultant drums, when lightning spits\\nImpartial terrors on the quiv ring earth.\\nAnd the deep booming grew articulate,\\nAs lips unlocked unto a sudden speech.\\nAnd through the hell of darkness sang the choir\\nOf the dread priestess, and the shamed Sun\\nTHE HYMN OF DARKNESS\\nOm!\\nO wheel, who settest thy faces gainst the stars.\\nWhose golden hooves crush out the silvern bars\\nThat lean athwart the lines of night and day,\\nAvenge us of this new God, Christ, we pray,\\nOm!\\n141", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0153.jp2"}, "154": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nOm!\\nLord of all liglit, whose swift and golden glance\\nBreaks in prismatic light earth s starry trance,\\nReveal thy face, and show thy dreaded wrath\\nOn this poor, piteous worm who thwarts thy path,\\nOm!\\nOm!\\nO thou, whose burning plumage stretches far,\\nFlaming with eyes, and every eye a star,\\nLean down and shrivel in thy lambent fire\\nThis moth who braveth death and thy dread ire,\\nOm!\\nOm!\\nThou drinkest from the deep, and thy red lip.\\nFroths from the foam-flake, where thy mouth doth\\nsip,\\nDescend and taste the chalice of his blood.\\nWe sprinkle o er thy oaks and thwart thy flood,\\nOm!\\nOm!\\nLet them take back to th Orient their dead God,\\nThere where our fathers burning feet had trod\\nNo dead god but thee, our living god, we praise.\\nThee, through the tranced nights, the quenchless\\ndays,\\nOm!\\n142", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0154.jp2"}, "155": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nAnd sudden, unseen hands reached forth and\\nplaced\\nThe fearless youth on the dread altar-stone,\\nAnd the white priests drew slowly round and\\nspoke\\nTheir incantations, and the spells of gods\\nBrought from the ancient Babylon, and sung\\nFor centuries round the golden god who gazed\\nAt his twelve acolytes that dumbly stood\\nOn the green sward in far and famed Moy-Slecht.\\nAnd, as their wrath grew with the spoken spell,\\nAnd chid their hands, reluctant and upraised,\\nA swift knife flashed like to the forked tongue\\nThat licks and lights the thunder-blackened cloud.\\nAnd the youth closed his eyes, and thought of\\nHim\\nWhose breast was pierced by the blind soldier s\\nlance,\\nWhen the same thunders pealed, and lightnings\\nflashed\\nAround the deicides of Golgotha.\\nAnd, lo the heavens cleared, the dark clouds\\nrolled\\nIn silent files adown the resplendent west\\nThe lance-heads gleamed against the forest oaks\\nThe gentle eyes of all the maidens shone\\nWith all the light of a too sudden joy\\nH5", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0155.jp2"}, "156": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThat leaps upon the leaden feet of pain.\\nAnd Gachla looked upon the Christian youth\\nAnd smiled, and with more treacherous wiles she\\nsaid\\nEustace, thou rt brave come, and be one\\nwith us\\nThou hast purloined from archives of our gods\\nThe central secret of our creed and race,\\nHow to be brave in pain, serene in death.\\nThine eye untroubled, and thy pulse unstirred\\nAmid the terrors of the dark, the threats\\nOf unseen gods, and all the dark estate\\nOf the great powers that rule the sky and sea.\\nBut the brave youth, repeating back her smile.\\nUnmoved by her false praise, as by her power.\\nLooked in her glowing eyes, and calmly said\\nI have not stolen the secret of your gods\\nYour gods are demons, crushed beneath the heel\\nOf the great Woman, from whose womb there\\nsprang\\nLight unto saints, and lightning to the lost.\\nFar in the early dawn he played a child\\nBefore His Father s throne in the empyrean\\nThe Spirit looked on Him with love and smiled.\\nAnd the vast seas of space were round them, and\\nth abyss\\nUnruffled by this vagrant ship, called time.\\n144", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0156.jp2"}, "157": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nAnd the Son s place was in a farthest cloud,\\nAnd His tent stretched along a silent shore,\\nTideless and waveless, for there was no time.\\nBut like a cedar was He lifted up,\\nAnd like a cypress by the Syrian sea.\\nAnd then Time came and thwart the speech-\\nless Light\\nFluttered fair forms, who envied Him, and fell.\\nThen fairer forms more faithful, who became\\nServitors willing to the youthful King.\\nBut, one day playing in the fields of Heaven,\\nHe looked and saw the Father s lightnings strike\\nOne tiny world in the far seas of space.\\nAnd He beheld two forms, whose altered shape\\nWere like, and yet most unlike, unto God s\\nBut they were stricken sore, and sore ashamed\\nAnd their thrice regal foreheads bent them low.\\nAnd watched the dry earth drink their bittei\\ntears.\\nThen the young God was smit with sudden pain.\\nAnd yearned for the loneliness of that race.\\nFor, mark you, great souls tire of changeless joy.\\nAnd the eternal sweets of peace and love\\nCloy on the loftier appetites that embrace\\nPain, and the bitter sweets of sadness blent\\nIn one rude chalice, wreathed with the rue,\\nAnd tinctured with the myrrh of human tears.\\nlo 145", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0157.jp2"}, "158": {"fulltext": "CIthara Mea\\nHe looked upon His Father s face; twas dark,\\nAnd yet His frowning forehead answered Go\\nAnd the young God stooped to this nether earth,\\nAnd hid Himself behind the lov liest veil,\\nThe heart of a most pure and holy maid.\\nAnd then He walked amongst men. They knew\\nhim not.\\nWords from His gentle lips did oft distil\\nComfort and balm unto grief-stricken hearts\\nAnd His most holy fingers touched the sick,\\nThe leprous, without scorn or shrinking dread\\nThe crumbling and polluted flesh doth raise.\\nAnd all men loved Him and all women wept\\nOver their babes and lisped His sanctity.\\nBut the fierce bearded priests held far aloof,\\nAnd knew not this was the great promised King\\nWhom all the seers and Pr.^jices of the race\\nHad yearned to see but the far doom of God\\nMust not be set aside by human hands.\\nThey took that gentle Son and with rude gibes\\nAnd ruder buffets they exalted Him\\nOn a high throne of suffering and of scorn.\\nThey wreathed His forehead with contumely.\\nMade the cold iron fester through His hands,\\nAnd flung the burden of His tortured frame\\nOn feet that the fierce iron gauntlets stung.\\nAnd then they drew apart and mocked Him\\n146", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0158.jp2"}, "159": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nThey whose very leprosy He had cured,\\nThey whose very madness He had healed,\\nThey whose very palsied limbs He smote\\nUnto fresh life and smoothed suppleness\\nThey mocked at him, the wounded One, and said,\\nVah thou magician, use Thy secret arts,\\nAnd save Thyself as Thou didst erstwhile save\\nThe fools that trusted in Thy feigned power.\\nAnd then a piteous cry of woe did break\\nFrom out the wilderness of grief that lay\\nOn His great heart, thus riven and bereft.\\nAnd in that cry which pierced the thunder-cloud.\\nThat hung o er all that charnel-house of skulls,\\nHis soul went forth. And the loud thunder\\ncrashed,\\nAnd lightnings flickered o er the stricken crowd.\\nAnd they did beat their breasts and whimpering\\ncry\\nThis was a just man whom our envy smote.\\nBut the dumb earth travailed and tore its breast.\\nAnd rocked and swung like tempest-driven sea,\\nAnd broke the prison bars of graves that kept\\nIn durance all the souls of all the blest.\\nAnd the great sheeted ghosts did walk abroad,\\nAnd haunt the homes of all the deicides.\\nWho struck their breasts and cried most mourn-\\nfully,\\n147", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0159.jp2"}, "160": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nTrue, we have sinned, and this the Christ is just.\\nBut the pale body shone amidst the gloom\\nOf Golgotha and the red rain did weep\\nOn his meek mother and one contrite one\\nBut here while Eustace told in mournful rhyme\\nThis sad death-story of his God the King,\\nA sound of fury broke upon his words,\\nThe gathered rage of all the Pagan host.\\nWho cried, The cowards, the lily-livered stags,\\nWho took high favors and requited them.\\nWith rudest treachery and ungenerous meed\\nOf wounds and blood to him, the kind, the good\\nWould Heaven that we were on that high place\\nOf skulls these treacherous churls should swing\\nbeside\\nTheir victim, and their coward blood should shrink\\nInto the sewers of their city doomed\\nTo desolation for their dastard crime.\\nBut all the little Pagan maids did weep,\\nAnd their loud sobs did echo through the gloom,\\nFor all the suffrance of the gentle Christ.\\nAnd Eustace saw the tawny tiger-lights\\nIn Gachla s eyes fade into happy moons\\nOf mystery and mournfulness as she drew near,\\nAnd flung the serpent fascination of her smile\\nOver the guileless youth. She stretched her arms,\\n148", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0160.jp2"}, "161": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nWhite as the pure and fragile canaban,\\nThat floats round black bog and sullen mere\\nHer lips did tremble as with ill-borne pain,\\nAnd her sweet voice shook out a treacherous\\nthrene,\\nSuch as our women wail above their dead\\nOh, Eustace, thou hast conquered us to Christ\\nThy gentle tale has wrung our stubborn hearts,\\nAnd nailed them to the feet of Him who died.\\nOh, Eustace, come and teach us more of Christ,\\nTeach our rude kerns swiftly to unlearn\\nThe fierce and angry art of dealing death.\\nUnman them if thou wilt, and let them weep\\nAt sight of gaping wounds and pallid death.\\nCome turn our shields to ploughshares, let the hilt\\nOf blazing swords be buried in the deep.\\nAnd let the children of the Gael forget\\nTheir vast inheritance of love and hate.\\nLet all be smothered and submerged in love.\\nSuch love as welcomes thee to liveried pomp.\\nAnd all the graces of our royal home.\\nBut as the youth, now flattered by her words.\\nAnd thinking of his triumph with lawless pride,\\nHow he had won the Pagan unto Christ,\\nLooked in her face, he saw her wondrous eyes\\nBend towards him veiled behind a silver mist\\nOf tears that swam as soft as April skies.\\n149", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0161.jp2"}, "162": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd the dread lights, that baleful shone erstwhile,\\nTook on the tender grays that shade the holms,\\nWhere all the weary trees drop down their dead,\\nYellow and blanched by the drooping thought\\nAnd musing sadness of the year s decline.\\nAnd Gachla stretched towards him her bare arms\\nPiteous and one shred of hair broke loose\\nAnd brushed the golden temples of the boy.\\nHe felt his soul swoon in some dread delight,\\nAnd all his being was slowly drawn abroad\\nBy some most gentle but imperious force\\nAnd down the horrid gulfs of sin and death\\nHis poppied senses dragged his shrinking soul\\nAnd God drew back his hand, stung with the pride\\nOf the young victor athlete.\\nAt that hour\\nVesperal, calm, as day kneels to the night,\\nPatrick, the weary saint, stood by the stream\\nWhere the boy knelt, and drew a forced assent.\\nThe aged brow was troubled, and the eyes\\nFilled with that aching light that seeks to pierce\\nBeyond the quivering curtains of the light.\\nAnd a great sorrow brimmed the crystal cup\\nOf the strong heart that beat but for the Christ.\\nAnd, lifting up his tremulous voice, he cried\\nWhere art thou, Eustace Where art thou, O\\nmy child\\nISO", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0162.jp2"}, "163": {"fulltext": "Gachla the Druidess\\nAnd, as the boy drew down the breaking gulf,\\nPiloted by the starry gleams that shone\\nFrom Gachla s tear-brimmed eyes, and strongly\\nrowed\\nBy the white arms of the Druidic girl,\\nHe heard a far-off voice above the wastes.\\nAnd his own name was called from out the night.\\nAnd all his senses woke, and the dread spell\\nWas broken, and the glamour of the face\\nAnd form of Gachla yielded to the voice\\nAnd Eustace struggled, but her beauty hung\\nAround him like a net and he, enmeshed,\\nFlung out his piteous arms unto the skies.\\nAnd drew in the thick air the Sacred Sign,\\nDreaded by sepulchred and unsceptred gods.\\nQuickly, bring hither lights, ye base-born slaves\\nOur god hath taken umbrage at our ways,\\nAnd cloaked himself in hoodie ts of the night,\\nOr leaped adown the crenellated hills,\\nAnd hid him in the lap of mother-sea.\\nQuick, for the sooty night is thick and black.\\nShe rose so sudden from her smutty couch,\\nShe hath forgot her circlet of the stars.\\nAnd her tiara of the demilune.\\nThen great fear fell on all, for the fierce sun\\nWas sifting his red beams through thickest leaves,", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0163.jp2"}, "164": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAnd painting with long pencils of his rays\\nThe bald, bare brows of turrets and of trees.\\nBut the bewildered and the wandering eyes\\nStared into nothing, as a dreaming poet\\nFeels all the weight of consecrated brow\\nPressing the light from too-encumbered eyes,\\nThat grope through space, and lose their search-\\ning light\\nSwallowed and soaked in the absorbent gloom,\\nThat reigns o er all the mysteries of space.\\nAnd priests and maids and churls did pity her,\\nEven when again, raging gainst the wall\\nOf blackness that stood still before her eyes,\\nPalpable, impenetrable, locking out her soul\\nForevermore from commerce with her kind.\\nThe fierce Druidic priestess smote her hands,\\nAnd cried imperiously to priests and churls\\nWhat aileth ye? Hath this too sudden pall.\\nAnd cloak of darkness of the witch(\u00c2\u00a7d night,\\nEmparalyzed your rebel hands, and tied\\nInto too willing knots your palsied feet?\\nGo thither, and let the fragrant pine-knot flare.\\nAnd let the earth-drawn light illume the night.\\nAnd fling into her face the crescent glow\\nOf stars of earth, where heaven s stars have failed.\\nThen a deep murmur smote her list ning fears.\\nBade them leap back upon her soul, and there\\n152", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0164.jp2"}, "165": {"fulltext": "Gachla\u00e2\u0080\u0094 -the Druidess\\nKindle dark dread, where panic was unknown.\\nAnd straight, the aged priest arose and said\\nGachla, my child, thou peerless and unpaired.\\nFor who was ever like thee since the dawn\\nOf thy young reason kindled the white light\\nThat trembled in thy cheek, and in thine eyes?\\nSome Christian wiles surround thee, and the gods\\nOf this young Christian seer have blinded thee\\nFor thy great god and ours doth still hold sway\\nOver the heavens whose empurpled head\\nAnticipates in grief his near decay.\\nHis dying fingers tease thy lustrous hair.\\nFlush and make roseate thy forehead s snows.\\nSo his voice echoed and all held back their breath,\\nAs at some sudden crisis in their lives,\\nTo see what blindly weaving Fates could do\\nUnto their stricken priestess and their queen.\\nFather, she said Father, she murmured low.\\nSummoning her scattered and dissolved strength,\\nAnd fusing into calmness all the fires\\nThat burned molten, like quench d thunderbolts\\nLead me from hence and placing, like a child,\\nOne piteous hand in his outstretch(^d palm,\\nAnd shading with the other th extinguished lights\\nOf her great eyes that once could star the night\\nWith their too lustrous beauty, she went forth,\\n153", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0165.jp2"}, "166": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nAs a young soul that, disembodied,\\nTests with its sinking nerves the aerial bridge\\nThat spans in space the two eternities\\nSo went she forth, her blind face to the sun,\\nHer white feet testing for the creviced chasm,\\nHer right hand curved to eaves for darkened eyes,\\nAnd then stretched, calling, calling to the night,\\nTo push its dread obstructions from her path.\\nAnd all her little maidens followed her.\\nNow looked at her, and now looked back in fear\\nAt the young Christian athlete, who, amazed\\nAt his own weakness and the strength of Christ,\\nPassed silent through the statued, mail-clad ranks,\\nAnd conquering, yet conquered, by his pride,\\nSought the great Saint, and kissed his sandalled feet,\\nAnd told with sobs that shook, with words that\\nburned.\\nThe story of the tourney and the tryst.\\nSo rims the rude, archaic tale,\\nTohi in the ingle-nooks at night,\\nWherever breathes the sea-borne Gael,\\nWhose legends leak into the light;\\nAnd tell of deeds, fearsotne and dark,\\nOf spells laroi/ght out by demon hands.\\nWhen through the world was borne the ark\\nOf faith to rest on western sands.\\n154", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0166.jp2"}, "167": {"fulltext": "HYMN TO SPRING\\n^55", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0167.jp2"}, "168": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0168.jp2"}, "169": {"fulltext": "HYMN TO SPRING\\nO EARTH, awake from thy slumbers\\nShe Cometh to thee o er the hills.\\nFrom the chambers of the south wmd,\\nFrom glad reaches of the sea.\\nShe hath breathed on brown mosses,\\nAnd, lo a star shines there\\nShe had touched the gnarled branches\\nThey are pearled and gemmed with buds.\\nAnd where black boles strike deeply,\\nA coronal of purple flowers,\\nShy, and sweet, and incense-breathing.\\nLeaps to the laugh of the south wind.\\nShakes the warm dew from their cheeks.\\nAnd sets birds and men dreaming\\nOf days gone by, and of childhood.\\nShy, and sweet, and love-enchanted.\\nO Earth, awake from thy slumbers\\nSpring Cometh to thee.\\nII\\nHearken, O Earth to thy Psalmist,\\nSpring singeth to thee\\n157", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0169.jp2"}, "170": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nFrom the tawny throats of bird-minstrels,\\nMuffled and shielded from cold,\\nLest one faintest chord should cipher,\\nOr one sweetest melody falter\\nIn her psalms and wood-litanies\\nFrom the gurgle and murmur of streamlets,\\nThat spring into laughter and song\\nThrough the broken shackles of ice-floes.\\nAnd the curved domes of the snows\\nFrom the clapping of hands in the woodlands,\\nAnd the buds leaning o er to each other\\nTo whisper the glad gratulations.\\nOr echo the glad hallelujahs\\nIn symphonies soft and majestic.\\nIn cadenced and resonant anthems,\\nAnd wild and unmeasured voluntaries.\\nListen, O Earth to thy Psalmist\\nSpring singeth to thee\\nIll\\nArise, O Earth, for thy Priestess,\\nSpring, cometh to thee!\\nShe hath put on the mitre of gladness.\\nAnd her vestments are weighted with flowers,\\nGod s golden embroidery.\\nWhere her sandalled feet touch the meadows,\\n158", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0170.jp2"}, "171": {"fulltext": "Hymn to Spring\\nA print of gold and of saffron\\nLies beneath the grasses embedded.\\nCrocus, and hly, and violet,\\nThe shy, sweet children of darkness,\\nPeep through the brown moist ridges\\nCareless, but living and breathing.\\nThe bells of the lilac tremble\\nAnd up from the steaming grasses,\\nThe hyacinth poureth his incense\\nAt the feet of his priestess and queen.\\nAnd she, with her solemn worship\\nOf prayer, and of praise, and the burning\\nOf perfumed woods, and the spices\\nThat breathe on the tremulous air.\\nGrows strong, as her King in the heavens\\nWidens the arch of his circuit,\\nAnd pours the life from his bosom,\\nTill the shy, meek maiden of springtime,\\nThe gentle Sibyl and psalmist.\\nWaxes ruddy and brown in the sunshine.\\nAnd from priestess of birds and of streams.\\nGrows to the stature of strength and of scorn,\\nDishevelled, and splashed with the blood of the\\nwine-press,\\nThe flame-haired Moenad,\\nThe wild-eyed Bacchante,\\nOf summer and fruit and song.\\n159", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0171.jp2"}, "172": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0172.jp2"}, "173": {"fulltext": "IN THE MART\\nII i6i", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0173.jp2"}, "174": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0174.jp2"}, "175": {"fulltext": "IN THE MART\\nWHO art thou? for he idly strolled\\nInto the idle market-place,\\nWhere everything was weighed with gold,\\nAnd greed looked out from every face.\\nn\\nThou art a stranger here what wares\\nBringest thou in to the world s mart?\\nHe saw their faces were grooved with cares\\nThat a lump of gold was every heart.\\nin\\nWeary he turned aside and they said\\nNow, thou art a fool, for we beckoned thee,\\nTo show thy merchandise here outspread,\\nTo buy and to sell in equity.\\nIV\\nAlas he said, I have but a song,\\nA song for birds and clouds and skies\\nFor the nimble shapes that leap and throng\\nThe mirrored lakes of the children s eyes.\\n163", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0175.jp2"}, "176": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nI have nought you would vahie they re idle\\nwords,\\nUnless they sink in a certain soil.\\nWhat would you, gray beards, with trill of birds?\\nWith songs of streams, O ye sons of toil?\\nVI\\nNay, pipe us a song, they said we re tired,\\nAnd would listen and lean for thy idle word;\\nAnd, mark you, we hold your minstrelsy hired,\\nYou 11 be paid in gold, for the notes we ve\\nheard.\\nVII\\nThen he took his pipe and chaunted low\\nA melody soft as the soft spring winds.\\nWhen the lambs do leap, and the violets blow,\\nAnd the ice no longer the prattle binds\\nVIII\\nOf the brook in the meadow, where every curve\\nShadows a lakelet, deep and clear,\\nAnd the minnows hide, and the troutlets swerve,\\nAnd the long, lithe eels in the sands appear.\\n164", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0176.jp2"}, "177": {"fulltext": "In the Mart\\nIX\\nBut the mart was weary, and wearily said\\nPipe us a song of the years gone by\\nThy notes are dull as the ring of lead,\\nPipe us the songs that are silvery.\\nThen he sang of the days long, long ago,\\nThe brave old years of chivalry,\\nWhen men were men, not slaves bent low\\nO er the dust of the golden alchemy.\\nXI\\nBut they stopped their ears, and angrily cried\\nLet the dead ghosts sleep in their winding-\\nsheets,\\nPipe us a song of the years untried,\\nLet us know how the pulse of the future beats.\\nxu\\nThen he sang of the years that are speeding on.\\nFrom the dim, gray future, that looms ahead.\\nLike the sheeted rains that weep and are gone,\\nWhipped by the wings of the storm outspread.\\n165", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0177.jp2"}, "178": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nXIII\\nAnd he saw but gloom, and the red, red rain\\nDripped from the clouds, and the thunder\\ncrashed,\\nThe thunder of war, it had come again.\\nTo sweep the floors where the Godhead threshed\\nxrv\\nThe wheat from the chaff; for men grew old\\nAnd wrinkled and blear-eyed with their lust,\\nTheir manhood wasted in search for gold.\\nTheir honor trailed in the yellow dust.\\nXV\\nBut the merchants shouted aloud, Get hence\\nThou croaking seer, we 11 have none of thee\\nThe bells of a fool be thy recompense,\\nTo ring with thy dismal threnody\\nXVI\\nThen the poet stept out from the world s mart,\\nAnd his soul leapt up to the clear blue sky.\\nAnd his lips rang out the song of his heart.\\nAnd the sweet birds challenged his minstrelsy.\\ni66", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0178.jp2"}, "179": {"fulltext": "In the Mart\\nXVII\\nAnd down the valleys, shy and low,\\nHiding their sweets, as a child that hides\\nThe sweets of her face, and the amber glow\\nOf her hair, where the glint of the sunbeams\\nbides,\\nXVIII\\nHe piped, and the reeds in the river-bed\\nRustled and sang as he passed by,\\nAnd the wild rose lifted her fragrant head.\\nAnd breathed him love for his melody.\\nAnd all sweet things of earth and air\\nFollowed the singer, piping sweet.\\nAnd he shook from his soul the dust and care\\nCaught from the soil of the teeming street.\\nAnd once he stood on the mountain crest\\nWhere ever the trill of the birds was hushed\\nBut the lordly eagle had built his nest,\\nAnd the peaks by the prisoning ice were\\ncrushed.\\n167", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0179.jp2"}, "180": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nXXI\\nAnd a cloud swooped down, and clothed him\\nIn the white pure robes of God s elect,\\nAnd his tongue was silent his eyes grew dim\\nThough he stood, fore the face of God, erect.\\nXXII\\nAnd a voice from the cloud a spirit- voice\\nBreathed in accents of joy and grace\\nHeaven s lofty sanction for call and choice.\\nAnd the cloud drew back, and, lo God s\\nFace\\nXXIII\\nBut the merchants slept in the dusty mart,\\nAnd their lids were red from the poppied gold,\\nAnd a lump of earth was each silent heart,\\nAnd for this, their souls they had pawned and\\nsold.\\n[68", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0180.jp2"}, "181": {"fulltext": "THE LASCARS\\n169", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0181.jp2"}, "182": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0182.jp2"}, "183": {"fulltext": "THE LASCARS\\nTHEY cried O Captain, let us leave\\nThese foggy shores, and leaden skies,\\nWhere the wild, moaning waves upheave\\nTheir hands against the pale moonrise.\\nII\\nWhy tarry we Beyond the bar\\nThe broad sea beckons, pointing south.\\nAnd, lo above, the mariner s star\\nGleams ruddy at the harbor s mouth.\\nIll\\nHow breathe the spiced breezes where\\nThe purple skies lean down to kiss\\nThe purple waves where fires uptear,\\nAnd soothe again to deeper bliss\\nIV\\nAnd the moist cheeks of men are fanned\\nBy palms that lift their open hands,\\nAnd dreaming wavelets, iris-spanned,\\nMurmur and swoon on silver sands\\n171", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0183.jp2"}, "184": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nV\\nThe tropic children, nude and dun,\\nPlunge mid the coralled pink sea-flowers,\\nSwarth with the umber of the sun,\\nAnd laughing with the laughing hours.\\nVI\\nWe see our adobe huts arise,\\nPlumage of birds in golden thatch,\\nThe welcome in our children s eyes,\\nThe quick uplifting of the latch\\nVII\\nAnd the dark, lovelit eyes that shine\\nFrom dusk to dawn, from dawn to dusk,\\nLamps that illume our sea-girt shrine\\nOur fragrant shores, our isles of musk.\\nVIII\\nAnd here in icebound seas we grieve,\\nResent the lot which Fate has cast\\nO Captain let s the anchor heave.\\nAnd clothe with clouds the shiv ring mast.\\nIX\\nAh well, they woke the anchor s sleep,\\nIn its far bed of ooze and slime\\nThey woke the echoes of the deep,\\nShrilling aloud the mariner s rhyme.\\n172", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0184.jp2"}, "185": {"fulltext": "The Lascars\\nThey clothed the complaining mast\\nWith white clouds of the flapping sail,\\nAnd down the harbor bight they passed,\\nAnd whistled for the sleeping gale.\\nTheir proud bark spurned the teasing wave.\\nLit with the ruddy mariner s star\\nAnd then leaped down its gulfing grave,\\nSmote by the iron harbor bar,\\nXII\\nThe ribbed and wrinkled harbor bar.\\nWhere moaned the muffled traitor wave.\\nAnd where the ruddy, torch-like star\\nLighted the lascars to their grave.\\nXIII\\nAh me why did they choose to leave\\nThe fog-girt shores the skies of lead\\nAnswer, ye moaning waves, that heave\\nYour hands above the silent dead\\n173", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0185.jp2"}, "186": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0186.jp2"}, "187": {"fulltext": "SPIRIT-VOICES\\n175", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0187.jp2"}, "188": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0188.jp2"}, "189": {"fulltext": "SPIRIT-VOICES\\nRED sunset on the Ligurian mere\\nThe brown sails flap against the mast,\\nFrom mariners lips a throb of prayer,\\nTrembling in thanks for perils passed.\\nHow sweetly the rough voices ring\\nO er sunlit wave and glassy prow\\nHow fresh the evening breezes spring\\nFrom where on yonder Ethiop brow\\nOf queenly Night tiaras flame,\\nA coronal of starry gleams,\\nAs if the pallid sky became\\nA broken sea of golden streams.\\nA gray mist on the Ligurian mere\\nAnd from the bosom of the mist\\nThe whisper of a breathed prayer\\nFor hands unclasped and lips unkissed.\\n12 177", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0189.jp2"}, "190": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nThe sailors creep adown the sea,\\nWith open eyes that stare in fear\\nThey dread the mist and mystery,\\nThey cry for cape and headland clear.\\nBut hark from out the curtained gloom\\nPierce sounds that thrill and shrill and soar.\\nMore welcome than the cannon s boom\\nThat grumbles down the sea-washed shore.\\nHark, Pietro Gioacchimo, list\\nThat is our Maddalena s voice\\nIt shakes the curtains of the mist\\nAnd thou, grim Salvador, rejoice\\nThat is thy child s contralto clear,\\nGurgling like nested nightingale\\nNow, brothers, smooth the folds of care,\\nSing out, we furl the hanging sail.\\nAve Maria Holy Maid\\nIf brown hands clasp the sailor s neck,\\nIf curls nestle, tossed and frayed.\\nEre yet the mariners leap the deck,\\nT was thy sweet Name, called from the mist.\\nThy Face that starred the curtained gloom.\\nDrew to this safe and sacred tryst\\nFrom out the shadow of the tomb.\\n178", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0190.jp2"}, "191": {"fulltext": "Spirit- Voices\\nAnd so, across the sea of years,\\nIts future curtained, wave from wave,\\nWe creep to catch with strained ears\\nA voice to cheer a sign to save.\\nAnd, lo where Life s great tidal voice\\nLisps to the far eternal shore,\\nTrembles from sister lips Rejoice\\nThy voyage, O sailor soul, is o er\\nAve Maria Holy Maid\\nTo thy sweet Name we furl the sail,\\nAnd ship the oar, no more afraid\\nOf traitor fog or treacherous gale.\\n179", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0191.jp2"}, "192": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0192.jp2"}, "193": {"fulltext": "MY ROSE", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0193.jp2"}, "194": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0194.jp2"}, "195": {"fulltext": "MY ROSE\\nA JUNE SONG\\nOROSE my Rose O passionate heart of\\nthe Rose\\nWhy am I tempted to crush thee, O Rose sur-\\npassingly sweet?\\nThy breath is of Sharon s vales, thy petals dreamily\\nclose.\\nWith the blush of a child when she bows in love\\nat her Father s feet.\\nAnd thy beauty leads me afar, O Rose pale,\\nperfumed Rose\\nTo lands where the Sungod rules, and smites\\nwith a breath of desire\\nThe cheeks of maidens the flowers, that lean\\nfor a moment s repose\\nOn the lap of the leaves that flash, but drink not\\nthe flame of his fire.\\nAnd, oh for the languor of peace, my Rose\\nmy beautiful Rose\\nFor a fretless, passionless heart, and the shade of\\na feathered palm\\n183", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0195.jp2"}, "196": {"fulltext": "CIthara Mea\\nFor the cool, dim aisles where ever a zephyr of\\nEden blows\\nAnd the silvery bells of the fountain break on the\\nconvent calm.\\nBut what dost thou here, my Rose, my pale and\\nlanguishing Rose?\\nThy petals are soiled with slime from these al-\\nchemists forges of ours\\nAnd shrunk with the shrieks that arise from the\\nfierce and passionate throes\\nOf men and machines that in darkness beat out\\nthe desolate hours.\\nAnd thus am I tempted to crush thee, O Rose,\\nmy beautiful Rose\\nThou art here but an exiled waif; I will kill thee,\\nand thou shalt go\\nTo thy home t is a crime, but who will blame,\\nif for thee I choose\\nFor the shrieks, the songs of the birds for the\\nslime, white vases of snow.\\n184", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0196.jp2"}, "197": {"fulltext": "BE HUSHED, YE BELLS!\\n185", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0197.jp2"}, "198": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0198.jp2"}, "199": {"fulltext": "BE HUSHED, YE BELLS!\\nTHE bells break out upon the air,\\nAnd hurt us with their throbbing pain\\nOf memories that, gaunt and sere.\\nCome thronging to the wild refrain,\\nThat chides them with affected joy,\\nGray ghosts that in the cabinets\\nHave stared at the gay Hours employ\\nWith stonied face of dead regrets.\\nHush, O ye bells Silence is sweet\\nShe lets us idly think and dream\\nAnd surely dreaming is most meet\\nFor souls that, on the slumb rous stream\\nOf Time, float down the enchanted wave\\nThat dies on the enchanted sea.\\nWhose farthest crested ripples lave\\nThe cloud-shores of eternity.\\n187", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0199.jp2"}, "200": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nGo back, grim spectres of the past\\nRelax your sightless, stony stare\\nCall back your memories that o ercast\\nOur sunshine with a cloud of care.\\nLeave us our present heritage,\\nThe leafy promise of our hope\\nEven the bare, unsunned presage\\nOf eyes that stare and hands that grope.\\nOnly draw down your heaviest veil.\\nAnd cloak your past of horrid shapes\\nBut shake the folds from which the pale\\nAnd plumt^d Dove of Hope escapes.\\nAnd let her sail adown the wave,\\nAnd let her sleep with plumage furled,\\nBe hushed, ye bells We pilgrims crave\\nThe peace that sleeps on yonder world.", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0200.jp2"}, "201": {"fulltext": "TRISTESSE\\n189", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0201.jp2"}, "202": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0202.jp2"}, "203": {"fulltext": "TRISTESSE\\nI\\nI ASKED t was foolish asking why the sea\\nMoans to the midnight and along the sands,\\nAs t were to dramatize her threnody,\\nFalls, and flings wildly forward her white hands.\\nThe answer came T is not the midnight sea\\nThat moans the sound of sorrow is in thee.\\nII\\nI asked t was foolish asking what outspreads\\nThis veil of gloom athwart the silent lea,\\nSave where the osiers whisper in their beds\\nWaving faint pennants, as the breezes flee.\\nThe answer came The twilight loneliness\\nShadows and echoes but thine own distress.\\nIll\\nI asked t was foolish asking why this eve.\\nAblaze with joyous fires from sea to sea.\\nVocal with songs of birds that never grieve,\\nShould yet wear nought but sadness unto me.\\nThe answer came Chide not sweet Nature s\\nface.\\nThou that dost lack the secret of her grace\\n191", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0203.jp2"}, "204": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nIV\\nI asked t was foolish asking why this child\\nStares, with such solemn sadness in his eyes,\\nAs if he scanned the desert, lone and wild,\\nOf the gray life that far before him lies.\\nThe answer came There s nought of sadness\\nthere,\\nThou seest but shadows of thine own despair\\nV\\nAnd then I asked t was foolish my own\\nsoul.\\nWhat is the secret of thy dire distress?\\nWhence are the sombre clouds that round thee\\nroll?\\nUntouched by faintest ray of life s largess?\\nThe answer came Ask not, but star the gloom\\nLet Love, as flowers the dusk, thy night\\nperfume.\\n192", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0204.jp2"}, "205": {"fulltext": "SWALLOWS OF ALLAH\\n13 193", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0205.jp2"}, "206": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0206.jp2"}, "207": {"fulltext": "SWALLOWS OF ALLAH\\nSWALLOWS of Allah unfurl your white wings,\\nCome to us, strangers, o er the friendless sea,\\nWelcomed by Islam and its chivalry.\\nFor bene of all your hallowed minist rings.\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah hither wing your flight\\nOver the barren and mysterious sea\\nWhere have ye nested Whither did ye flee\\nLeaving gray shadows and the winter s night.\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah whilst ye dwelt afar\\nBehind the billows of the broken sea.\\nYour names made songs for Moslem minstrelsy\\nOver the long chibouque and samovar,\\nSwallows of Allah\\n1 The name given by the Turkish soldiers to the French Sis-\\nters of Charity,", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0207.jp2"}, "208": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nSwallows of Allah the dusk of Arab eyes\\nDeepened when strained across the steel-\\nrimmed sea\\nFor one white feather gainst its ebony!\\nThe pennant of response to prayers and sighs,\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah bearded men have wept,\\nWaiting your advent from the silent sea.\\nMaidens have pierced the minaret s mystery.\\nTo watch the realms of the Frankish sept,\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah now the royal sun\\nCrests the high cliffs that overhang the sea\\nThe snows are melted, and the shadows\\nflee,\\nThe white flowers star the meadows one by one,\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah bulbuls sing at night.\\nWe hear your voices from the siren sea\\nThe crescent shines above the silvered lea.\\nAnd all is music in the pale moonlight,\\nSwallows of Allah\\n196", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0208.jp2"}, "209": {"fulltext": "Swallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah from the high mosque s tower,\\nWaking the dreams of the too slumbrous sea,\\nPeals the muezzin s voice of victory,\\nThe advent of your mercy and your power,\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah, keep your faithful tryst,\\nHere by the shallows of the tideless sea,\\nThe Moslem shall not fail in courtesy\\nWe have our Prophet keep your gentle Christ,\\nSwallows of Allah\\nSwallows of Allah beat with buoyant wings\\nThe slumbers of the too reluctant sea\\nCome to us Come to us lo we cry for ye\\nThe largess of your woman s minist rings.\\nSwallows of Allah\\n197", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0209.jp2"}, "210": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0210.jp2"}, "211": {"fulltext": "COSETTE\\n199", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0211.jp2"}, "212": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0212.jp2"}, "213": {"fulltext": "COSETTE\\nACROSS the gray sands of Dinan,\\nCosette\\nComest thou, bird of sea and song,\\nCosette\\nThy hair-cloud streaming far behind.\\nVexed by the teasing, amorous wind.\\nLight in thy laughing eyes, and kind,\\nCosette\\nWhere art thou now? On what far brink,\\nCosette\\nOf life s wild waves, that swell and sink?\\nCosette\\nDead is the spring of nimble feet,\\nDull are thine eyes glad fires, and fleet.\\nAnd silvered age thy youth must greet,\\nCosette\\nBack, Fancy and let Memory paint\\nCosette\\nHers are the lines most true, tho faint,\\nCosette", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0213.jp2"}, "214": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nChild wert thou then Child art thou now\\nLife s dawn upon thy shining brow\\nWoman and wise God disallow\\nCosette\\nAcross the gray sands of Dinan,\\nCosette\\nThe white waves crooning to my song,\\nCosette\\nHere where the sands and surges meet,\\nI see the print of dimpled feet,\\nWet with my tears, so bitter sweet,\\nCosette\\nNay let me see thee as afar,\\nCosette\\nAbove the floor of yonder star,\\nCosette\\nWhen we shall meet in halls of heaven.\\nBeyond those peaks with sorrow riven.\\nLet me behold my child of seven,\\nCosette\\n302", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0214.jp2"}, "215": {"fulltext": "THALASSA! O THALASSA\\n203", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0215.jp2"}, "216": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0216.jp2"}, "217": {"fulltext": "THALASSA! O THALASSA\\nCAN you see the spine of yonder crest\\nCurved o er the hillside lea?\\nWell, there the sun halts as he creeps to rest\\nAnd beyond is the sea.\\nAnd beyond is the sea Have you seen the sea?\\nNever Dear Lord, you were never born,\\nNever seen the sea, and its mystery,\\nAnd the gates of the Night and the Morn\\nAy, I have seen it, and memory\\n(For I was not always blind)\\nPaints on my darkened eyes the sea\\nHere hath my God been kind.\\nHere hath my God been kind, for a wish\\nSumjnons the magic view,\\nAnd my ears lean down to the thunder and swish,\\nAnd the scream of the wild sea-mew.\\nOver the breakers that curl and toss\\nTheir manes as they sweep along,\\nTill the foam of their crests is a silken floss\\nGreen valleys among\\n205", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0217.jp2"}, "218": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nGreen valleys among the white gull flits,\\nAnd his strong gray pinion dips,\\nAnd rocked on the breakers the diver sits,\\nThe spume of the sea on his lips.\\nDo I dream, or is that the music of life\\nThat bids me look up and rejoice\\nFor Nature s at best is a silent strife.\\nYet she needs a voice.\\nShe needs a voice, else why does she draw\\nThe bolts of the caverned wind.\\nAnd let him sweep on, without leash or law,\\nTrailing her seas behind\\nHark to the thunder that shakes the ground,\\nWhere the speckled sand-larks flee\\nWere I dead, my heart would leap at the sound\\nAnd the scents of the sea.\\nAnd the scents of the sea, borne inland afar\\nOver the gorse and the heath.\\nMy soul would leap through the gates ajar,\\nAnd the gray, grim portals of death.\\nCan you see aught yet Nought yet Look afar,\\nFor the sea is alive and strong\\nNought but the spray of one bright star\\nIts peers among.\\n206", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0218.jp2"}, "219": {"fulltext": "Thalassa O Thalassa\\nIts peers among, and set in the curve\\nWhere the sun sinks to rest\\nAnd a long, long line with never a swerve\\nFrom the East to the West.\\nYou must be deceived, for the sounds and the\\nscents\\nOf the great baptismal wave,\\nPoured from the Godhead s affluence,\\nMy senses lave.\\nMy senses lave. If mine eyes are blind,\\nMy veins are filled as with wine,\\nMy hair is teased by the salt sea wind.\\nAnd my lips are kissed with his brine.\\nLook again and long, for I feel as a friend\\nHath his hand locked in mine\\nLook long, where the shadows gather and blend\\nAt the day s decline.\\nAt the day s decline, vast meadows are green,\\nWhite swallows over them flee\\nChild, O my Child, thine eyes are keen\\nMeadows Why, that s the sea.\\n207", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0219.jp2"}, "220": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0220.jp2"}, "221": {"fulltext": "ABOVE THE BRIDGE\\n14 209", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0221.jp2"}, "222": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0222.jp2"}, "223": {"fulltext": "ABOVE THE BRIDGE\\nIN low melodious laughter, as a child s,\\nThe brook leaps out from the green clust ring\\nferns,\\nTosses to eddying whirlpools, that foam\\nIn silver rings, which circle round and round\\nAnd some, caught in the current s arms, are rolled\\nOn to the ferns crippled hands, and some\\nFloat upon tranquil levels the lanced leaves\\nOf ash-trees bend them downward, as to seek\\nIn fruitless yearnings the cool, healthful wave.\\nOne hidden bird, tempted by silence, breaks\\nInto a rapture of sweet sounds and sighs.\\nAs if an Oread, left from ancient times.\\nWhen all the gods had perished, and the groves\\nWere widowed of their haunting deities,\\nTired and despairing of her loveless hills.\\nThat mocked at her for all her vanished mates.\\nShould swoop to the dim twilight of the grove.\\nCall and re-call to woodland and to stream\\nThe Orphic echoes that of old did break\\nFrom mountain wall in shivered resonance\\nAnd borne by winds of music, harps of air,\\nSang down the Olympian valleys, and were lost\\nIn the vast music of the mystic sea.\\n21 I", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0223.jp2"}, "224": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0224.jp2"}, "225": {"fulltext": "VALETE CAMCENiE\\n213", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0225.jp2"}, "226": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0226.jp2"}, "227": {"fulltext": "VALETE CAMCEN^\\nI TRAVAILED for souls of men, and, behold\\nThey gibbered and gibed at me.\\nI piped in the market-place for gold\\nThey danced to my minstrelsy.\\nFor the meed of a preacher is ever a laugh.\\nAnd the fingers fretting the dial.\\nTo measure the moments, that light as chaff\\nAre flung from the dance and the viol.\\nFrom the North, from the South, from the West,\\nthey trend,\\nThe shades of my phantom choir\\nAnd one sings Master, and one says Friend\\nAnd many, sullenly, Liar\\nThere is corn for the kine there is grist for the\\nmill,\\nAnd a coin for the scribe\\nBut how shall he value it Just as you will,\\nA helot s wage, or a bribe.\\nBut the shallows murmur, and deeps are dumb.\\nLift the plume from thy crest\\nTake this for thy motto Then say, O come\\nO Soul be thou silent and rest\\n2^5", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0227.jp2"}, "228": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0228.jp2"}, "229": {"fulltext": "A PROPHECY\\n217", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0229.jp2"}, "230": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0230.jp2"}, "231": {"fulltext": "A PROPHECY\\nO IRELAND, dark-hooded in sea-fog and\\nmist\\nAnd thy feet lapped around by the pitiless sea,\\nAnd thy harpstrings, broken and trailed in the\\nwind,\\nAnd thy fangless watch- hound, looking afar\\nThe white of thy forehead is smitten with signs.\\nNot the seals of the quick, as thy father Phoenicians\\nbore,\\nBut dark cicatrized with the time wounds and pain.\\nWhich fester, but gleam with a light and a hope,\\nWho speaketh of thee\\nFlotsam and waif on Time s dreary sea,\\nIn faded gold the mariners read afar\\nThy name, and think of old-time legendaries.\\nBut deem thee unworthy to pick up or save\\nDerelict of Ocean its tumultuous throngs\\nShuttles that weave betwixt the old and new,\\nWeaving the warp and woof of mighty empires.\\nThou alone untouched, as plague-stricken,\\nWho careth for thee?\\n219", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0231.jp2"}, "232": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nGray, dead hands point from out thy well-filled\\ngraves,\\nStately thy turrets, that tremble not, nor break\\nThough lichened crosses lean with weight of years\\nAnd stretch them listless through the dust-strewn\\ngrass\\nAnd thou a leaf from the black-lettered past\\nOf vanished chivalry, swiftly vanished faiths\\nBut, for it hurts the eye to study thee.\\nThe soul to watch thy illustrations dread.\\nMen turn from thee.\\nWizards in thy valleys, ghosts in thy lofty towers.\\nGray keeps o erhanging lonely, inky lakes\\nSpirits clank up the green and granite stairs\\nThat lead from seawash to enchanted moat.\\nArt thou enchanted Smitten into stone\\nBy some fell wizard in a far-off time\\nAnd the puissant word that melts or wakes\\nFrom gloomy trance and staring impotence.\\nWho 11 speak to thee?\\nAre thy transgressions wreathed round thy head?\\nDo they come up, and fall upon thy neck?\\nHath God poured out his fury like to fire?\\nAnd set thee in dark places, like the dead?\\n220", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0232.jp2"}, "233": {"fulltext": "A Prophecy\\nWounded to death, like some poor, timorous thing,\\nSeekest thou sepulchres of slime and dust?\\nTo hide thy head, and nurse thy mortal hurt,\\nAnd let thy memory pass from living men,\\nWho shudder at thee.\\nAnd yet one child of thine will prophesy,\\nNot smitten with a pythoness s rage.\\nBut watching the unrolling of the scroll.\\nThat Time, God s child, is stealing from God s\\nhand\\nThou, the Elect, for thou hast passed through\\nfire\\nThou, the encrowned, for thou hast tasted woe,\\nThou shalt yet speak, and all the world will hear\\nAnd all, with foreheads drooped and downcast\\neyes,\\nShall haste to thy beck, O Sibyl of the Seas,\\nAnd worship thee\\n221", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0233.jp2"}, "234": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0234.jp2"}, "235": {"fulltext": "SONNETS\\n223", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0235.jp2"}, "236": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0236.jp2"}, "237": {"fulltext": "A THUNDERSTORM AT BINGEN\\nTHE dying sun had sucked his last red beam\\nFrom the drunk vine, whose long,\\ndishevelled tress\\nLeaned as in maudlin madness to caress\\nThe childlike waves of the great, haunted stream\\nThen through the sudden darkness tore the scream\\nAnd snarl of thunder and the choking stress\\nMade of the midnight all a wilderness,\\nLit by the torches of the lightning s gleam.\\nAnd, lo o er slumbering village rose the crest\\nOf shattered keeps that in the magic flash\\nAssumed the might and mien of ancient power;\\nAnd from their walls by leaguering hosts oppressed,\\nThe mailed and vanquished knights did leap\\nand dash\\nInto the Lethe of the storm and hour.\\nIS 225", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0237.jp2"}, "238": {"fulltext": "AT THE RHINEFALLS (SCHAFFHAUSEN)\\nO STATELY river winding to the sea,\\nDeep-bayed and solemn for the centuries,\\nThat gaze upon thee with their dreaming eyes\\nFrom shattered keep and empty hostelry\\nHere in thy riot of lusty infancy,\\nHeedless and unrebuked by the wise,\\nWho cast the dark gray shadow of surmise\\nOf what a turbid future stores for thee.\\nAy leap and dance and curvet o er these stones.\\nThat dare to thwart thy progress and thy pride\\nStately and slow and solemn shalt thou move,\\nThy high song lowered to the dread monotones\\nOf war s loud clangor, or the rippling tide\\nOf music breathed from harps of Wine and Love.\\n226", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0238.jp2"}, "239": {"fulltext": "AN ORGAN-RECITAL (LUCERNE)\\nI HAVE beheld Nature and Art at war\\nFor on this summer eve the thunder pealed\\nWhere the Pilatus threatening raised his steeled\\nAnd crested helmet o er the smoking bar,\\nI hat wreathed its rival column from afar,\\nAnd in its snowy crevices revealed\\nIts glowing emulation field on field.\\nOf thick mists, lighted by the lightning s star.\\nAnd here the mighty building rocked and heaved\\nUnder the organ s thunders that awoke\\nBeneath the fingers of the silent one.\\nAnd the rain hissed as we had fain believed.\\nAnd the pines crashed beneath the lightning s\\nstroke,\\nAnd the fear-stricken hunters shriek and run.\\n227", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0239.jp2"}, "240": {"fulltext": "THE MER-DE-GLACE\\nHITHER God brought His rebel seas to try\\nHow high His wrath could lash them,\\nunrelieved\\nBy sinking spaces or by lowering sky\\nBut they, by loftiest altitudes deceived,\\nLeaped to his lash as if they fain believed\\nThey too could sweep his skies, and there decry\\nHis mandate when the smoking altars heaved\\nAnd sullen waters left the hill-tops dry.\\nBut he, resenting such Titanic pride.\\nTransfixed them in columnar ice and stone,\\nLeaving vast valleys in their solitude.\\nThere till the scythes of the last lava-tide\\nShall level all things, all proud things dethrone.\\nThe spirits of those Stylites dream and brood.\\n228", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0240.jp2"}, "241": {"fulltext": "THE VOX HUMANA\\nWE tired of surging cataracts of sound,\\nThat brolce from loosened stop and\\nfretted keys,\\nAnd poured their cadences without surcease,\\nAnd made the mountain thunders peal around.\\nWhen, mid the hissing of the rain deluge drowned,\\nLo from the depths of Alpine crevices\\nCame the faint cry of horror and distress\\nOf lonely chamois-hunter tempest-bound.\\nO great interpreter Nature hast thou shamed.\\nWe woke amid the horrors of thy Erebus\\nTo that one cry that ever touches us.\\nIn the vast organ-music she has framed,\\nHer noblest stops for us are idly stirred,\\nUntil she wakes the one great human chord.\\n229", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0241.jp2"}, "242": {"fulltext": "TO S. M. S.\\nI NEVER knew thee, child but this I knew\\nThou earnest from starred spaces to this\\nworld\\nWith all thy spirit faculties unfurled,\\nAnd thy great sponsor, music, promptly drew\\nFrom his large repertory, faultless, true,\\nA welcome from thy father, poet-herald\\nOf May, and pink May-blossoms lightly curled\\nTo hold the chaliced sweetness of the dew.\\nAnd thou, the heiress of his wealth of song,\\nPoured all thy gold in streams of liquid light.\\nDoubly refined by all thy faith and love.\\nLest thou shouldst cheat the vast expectant throng\\nOf one fine slender note, one music mite,\\nSinging thou soarest to the choirs above.\\n230", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0242.jp2"}, "243": {"fulltext": "THE LAMP OF THE SANCTUARY\\nLORD Thou hast kindled all Thy lamps to-\\nnight\\nFor me, the lowliest parasite on earth\\nThy voice gave utterance, I1iy will gave birth\\nTo all these streaming galaxies of light.\\nIf Thy creative word can thus delight\\nOne who forever travails from the dearth\\nOf love and knowledge, midst the boundless\\ngirth\\nThat wraps Thee formless in the infinite.\\nLet me be generous with Thee, dear Lord\\nLet me enkindle one bright lamp for Thee\\nLight for the Light, the true Incarnate Word,\\nA feeble flame for burning ecstasy.\\nSeest thou, blind to star and glowing sun.\\nThis lamp that burns before thine exiled One\\n231", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0243.jp2"}, "244": {"fulltext": "THE SONNET\\nI PUT my trembling bird with dowa-drooped\\nwing\\nWithin a golden cage that hung before\\nThe Muse s temple closed the clanging door,\\nAnd stept aside, silent, and wondering\\nWhether the captive minstrel soul would sing,\\nShe whose aspiring fancy fain would soar\\nTo the far Pisgah heights whose altars bore\\nTraces of the lordliest poets ministering.\\nAnd, lo the rough-hewn prison bars did glow\\nInto a golden lyre serenely strung,\\nAnd o er their quivering chords did sweetly flow\\nThe wavelets of an echo, swiftly sprung\\nFrom the imprisoned rage, the frenzied glow,\\nFor here hath Milton, here hath Petrarch sung.\\n232", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0244.jp2"}, "245": {"fulltext": "THIRZA\\n233", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0245.jp2"}, "246": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0246.jp2"}, "247": {"fulltext": "THIRZA\\nMidnight. At the gate of the King^s gardens.\\nTO thy gardens of spice, O my Father, my\\nKing\\nI will come in the dawning of day imto thee.\\nI will peer through the lattice and trellis of leaves,\\nI will wound all my feet with the spears of the\\nthorns,\\nAnd my hands with the swords of the cactus\\nwhite spines\\nI will whisper thy name to the cheek of the rose,\\nThe shy foolish roses that blush with delight,\\nOr a pain of unrest when a breeze flutters by.\\nI will call thee and startle the sleeping of birds,\\nAnd bend the long thread of the fountain of pearls.\\nShall I find thee asleep and the seal on thine eyes.\\nWhere the blue veins entangle in ivoried lids?\\nShall I find thee awake and a dawn of surprise\\nJust lighting the amber wine-lakes of thine eyes?\\nWilt thou rise to bid welcome and hail to my soul\\nWilt thou pity my weakness and bind the bruised\\nfeet,\\nAnd stain thy white fingers with rubies of blood?\\n235", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0247.jp2"}, "248": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWilt thou call on thy heralds and servitors here,\\nThe black and rude Ethiops, who bend at thy\\nbeck,\\nAnd name thee their king? Thou hast purchased\\ntheir souls.\\nWilt thou bid them bow down to their mistress\\nand queen\\nWilt thou take my white hand it is whiter than\\nthine.\\nFor thine shall be stained with my rubies of\\nblood,\\nAnd down the dim aisles, interlaced with the\\nvines,\\nThe vines that are curled like thy hair, and the\\ntint\\nOf whose grapes is so like the dark wine of thine\\neyes\\nShall we walk in the dawn, in the day, in the\\nnight.\\nWhere no time shall diminish the strength of our\\nLove?\\nVOICES OF THE NIGHT\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nForsworn and perjured One\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nTo thy lord, to thy God, the Sun\\n236", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0248.jp2"}, "249": {"fulltext": "Thirza\\nDid we not see thee at noontide of night\\nStabbing its sable with spears of the light,\\nKindled at feet of Astarte, the Queen\\nLest the flame of his face, of his garments the\\nsheen\\nShould be lost in the mourning of midnight,\\nwithdrawn\\nFrom dusk of the twilight to dusk of the dawn.\\nThou couldst not endure that the darkness should\\nmourn\\nThe death of thy God, as he passed to the bourne.\\nSepulchred to white resurrection of day.\\nGet thee back get thee back to thy vestal\\ndisplay.\\nI know ye not, ye voices of the night\\nI only know ye do not speak for him,\\nWho hath espoused me in his royal love,\\nThat draws me as on wheels of cherubim.\\nFrom my mother s kisses hath he weaned me,\\nLo his ring on my third finger gleaming\\nFrom my father s house hath he enticed me,\\nLo his white pearls on my bosom streaming\\nWere he sleeping my footfall would awaken\\nWere he dead my lightest words that flilter\\nOn the threshold of my lips would arrest him,\\n237", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0249.jp2"}, "250": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nCall his soul back from the shadows to exalt\\nher,\\nWho giveth redness to his mouth for her welcome,\\nAnd light unto his eyes for her gladness,\\nWho chaseth back the shadows that encompass.\\nAnd sweeteneth the myrrh chalice of his sadness.\\nVOICES OF THE NIGHT\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nWhy trespassest thou on his sleep?\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nLest the fires of his wrath should upleap\\nWhere on the tapestried walls were writ\\nScrolls of the abominations that flit\\nIn the brown air of Sheol the red creeping\\nthings.\\nAnd the idols that stare with their dumb up-\\nliftings,\\nHave we not seen thee to kneel and bend low,\\nSecretly dropping the fragrance to flow\\nUp from the censers of worshippers pale,\\nFore the face of the God Fore the spirits that\\nwail\\nO er the lost souls of men, and the dread of their\\nfate.\\nWe saw thee in tears we saw thee prostrate\\n238", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0250.jp2"}, "251": {"fulltext": "Thirza\\nTHIRZA\\nI know not why you utter these reproaches\\nI shall not answer your thrice bitter words\\nMy secret, the King s secret, to myself\\nHe alone shall waken my soul s chords.\\nShould he rise in anger dire, to smite me,\\nLift his hands before his burning face.\\nCall his angels from his garden to expel me,\\nI should neither weep nor clamor for his grace.\\nOnly I should pass amongst the shadows\\nOf my desolation made more desolate,\\nIn the deserts of the world, and their darkness.\\nHiding nought, but mindful of his hate.\\nWhere is he, the fairest son of morning?\\nHave ye hidden him? O look on my distress\\nAre ye spirits? have ye human hearts to pity\\nOne who fainteth for the sweets of his caress\\nVOICES OF THE NIGHT\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nThou vestal of death\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nFrom the flame of his breath\\nDidst thou not weep for Thammuz in the porch\\nFacing the north where the ice winds scorch\\nThy head covered and thy hair dishevelled,\\n239", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0251.jp2"}, "252": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nWhere the soft fingers of thy god had revelled?\\nThy god has passed the river in the night,\\nHis wounds have reddened all the waters bright,\\nPassed like a weed unto the open sea\\nEvil hath f^iUen on thy god and thee.\\nLike to the fiery flakes that slow descend.\\nFor thee no potent god, no pitying friend\\nTHIRZA\\nAfy God hath never passed into the bosom\\nOf night, or Ocean s sterile wastes outspread,\\nHe is hidden in the copses, in the arbors.\\nThe palm-tree cools the night air o er his head.\\nThere is one pallid rose beneath his forehead,\\nThe curl of the vine laps round his feet.\\nWhat know ye of Astarte or Adonis,\\nTheir names stain the sweetness of his retreat?\\nAll the frankincense of Araby I would burn,\\nAll the purple of sea-cities I would bring,\\nTo bathe in sweetest fragrance his forehead.\\nTo drape in richest royalty my King.\\nVOICES OF THE NIGHT\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nSibyl and Pythoness\\nGet thee back get thee back\\nFrom the King s duress.\\n240", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0252.jp2"}, "253": {"fulltext": "Thirza\\nHast thou not taken his silver and gold,\\nBy cunning of thy plastic fingers rolled\\nInto lewd idols of thy dark despair,\\nThat mock thee with their silent eyes, and stare\\nAt thy most foolish worship, and the stress\\nOf thy most foolish weepings and distress?\\nAy make of the King s gold a shining plate,\\nThe envy of thy Lord, the Sun, to sate.\\nHere hast thou no place with the crowned King,\\nCrowned for thy shame, sceptred with dishonoring.\\nTHIRZA\\nAgain you upbraid me, voices of the night\\nYon starry trance of the dark heavens bent.\\nBy its mute worship and its quivering lamps,\\nSeems in some dreadful silence to assent\\nAnd from the twilight of the garden trees\\nComes not a murmured whisper unto me.\\nSleep, or forgetfulness, or death is there\\nFarewell, my King a long farewell to thee\\nBend not, ye silent grasses, neath my feet\\nHopeful I came despairing I depart\\nBreak forth, thou Rose of blood again, and draw\\nThe fountains of my wrecked and broken heart.\\nBefore me is the desert, and behind\\nMaledictions on the night air float\\ni6 241", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0253.jp2"}, "254": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nI touch a wall of blackness, and my soul\\nSinks to the gloomy horror of that moat,\\nWhere lie of earth and heaven rejected souls,\\nAnd the dread knell of Orcus ever tolls.\\nTHE BF. LOVED\\n1)1 the desert. Just before the dawit.\\nWhat form is sheathed in the paling darkness?\\nWhat accents make the lids of night to shake\\nAVhat virgin s soul has donned the pilgrim s\\nsandals\\nHath wounded all her beauty for his sake?\\nTHIRZA\\nNay, Ignotus no pilgrim, but an outcast,\\nDisinherited, dishonored, I must roam\\nThrough the wilderness of sin and of sorrow,\\nTo find mongst heaven s exiled ones my home.\\nTHE BELOVED\\nWhy not seek then the King in his pavilions?\\nHe hath mercy on all who greatly need\\nHe hath comfort for the stricken and the sinner\\nHe hath ears open wide to all who plead.\\nTHIRZA\\nAll the night have I waited at his portals\\nI have cried, but my prayers have sunk like lead\\nIn the pathless waste of ocean highways\\nHe was silent as the graves that grasp their dead.\\n242", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0254.jp2"}, "255": {"fulltext": "Thirza\\nTHE BELOVED\\nAll the night he hath sought thee in the shadows,\\nHis heart hath wept aloud for thy voice\\nHe hath stepped from his high throne to greet\\nthee,\\nTo hail thee Queen, and Empress of his choice.\\nTHIRZA\\nLike the first faint stirring in the forest\\nWhen the restless breezes wake the bird\\nLike the first outpourings of gladness\\nWhen the footfalls of the dawn are heard.\\nLike the first fresh Hail unto the heavens\\nFrom the Ocean that has mourned all night,\\nComes thy voice o er the seas of my sorrows.\\nTo herald the oncoming of the Light.\\nLo the hearthstones of the eastern mountains\\nSmoke redly from th enkindled day\\nLo thy form grows dim against the background.\\nWhere the ghosts of the night fade away.\\nBreak away, ye ling ring mists of morning.\\nFold your tents and glide o er yonder hills.\\nLet me hear the voice of my Beloved,\\nSilver-toned as of a thousand rills.\\nOh, ye spirits, draw aside the curtains\\nStars of night, descend into the sea\\nLet me see the face of my Beloved,\\n243", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0255.jp2"}, "256": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nIn what places is he hid from me\\nAnd thou O Herald of the morning,\\nPrecursor and prophet of my Lord,\\nLinger not, I pray thee lead me to him.\\nMy soul hangs trembling on thy word.\\nTHE BELOVED\\nWouldst thou know him amongst the earth s\\nchildren\\nWere his beauty marred and spoiled by men\\nThorn-crowned, sceptre-stricken, gyved and fet-\\ntered,\\nWhen thou seest, thou It reject him once again\\nTIIIRZA\\nWhy thus recall my hidden sin so cruelly?\\nDoth not love retrieve the burning shame?\\nShall my love unreturned be unremembered\\nI have borne all the burden and the blame.\\nT is not the ruddy, but the livid face I follow\\nHere I pillow the thorn-crowned Head\\nI would shame the silent saint of Magdala,\\nWhen she woke and saw her vision mongst the\\ndead.\\nAh I fear my Lord hath never sent thee\\nHe would come to me and stretch forth His\\nhands\\n244", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0256.jp2"}, "257": {"fulltext": "Th\\nirza\\nHe would draw me to His bosom as His lost one\\nLove is all the retribution He demands.\\nO artist of the dawn brush from thy palette\\nThe gleaming of thy silvers and thy golds\\nDrawdown, starry night once more thy curtains,\\nLet me hide my burning face in their folds.\\nTHE BELOVED\\nThirza\\nTHIRZA\\nWho called?\\nTHE BELOVED\\nThirza, dost thou not know\\nThe face of thy Beloved gainst the Eastern glow\\nTHIRZA\\nCall me once more Hush, every clamorous bird\\nHush, O my beating heart, for this one word\\nTHE BELOVED\\nThirza\\nTHIRZA\\nOnce more Be silent, O ye restless stars\\nThe shadow of a whisper from my love debars\\nIHE BELOVED\\nThirza\\n245", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0257.jp2"}, "258": {"fulltext": "Cithara Mea\\nTHIRZA\\nOnce more It cannot be. He was asleep\\nThere where the HUes to the night winds weep\\nAnd yet the secret thrill bids me rejoice,\\nLike light s first murmur from the quickening\\nvoice.\\nTHE BELOVED\\nThirza\\nTIIIRZA\\nRabboni\\n246", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0258.jp2"}, "259": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0259.jp2"}, "260": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0260.jp2"}, "261": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0261.jp2"}, "262": {"fulltext": "AUG 181900\\nDeacidified using the Bookkeeper proc\\nNeutralizing agent: Magnesium Oxide\\nTreatment Date: May 2009\\nPreservationTechnologii\\nA WORLD LEADER IN COLLECTIONS PRESERVE\\n111 Thomson Park Drive\\nCranberry Township, PA 16066\\n(724) 779-2111", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0262.jp2"}, "263": {"fulltext": "", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0263.jp2"}, "264": {"fulltext": "LIBRARY OF CONGRESS\\n014 529 691 2", "height": "2510", "width": "1565", "jp2-path": "citharameapoems00shee_0264.jp2"}}