Page:Poems (IA poemslowell00lowe).pdf/92

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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
Of larger life, on whose broad vans upborne,Their out-look widens, and they see beyondThe horizon of the Present and the Past,Even to the very source and end of things.Such am I now: immortal woe hath madeMy heart a seer, and my soul a judgeBetween the substance and the shadow of Truth.The sure supremeness of the Beautiful,By all the martyrdoms made doubly sureOf such as I am, this is my revenge,Which of my wrongs builds a triumphal arch,Through which I see a sceptre and a throne.The pipings of glad shepherds on the hills,Tending the flocks no more to bleed for thee,—The songs of maidens pressing with white feetThe vintage on thine altars poured no more,—The murmurous bliss of lovers, underneathDim grape-vine bowers, whose rosy bunches pressNot half so closely their warm cheeks, uncheckedBy thoughts of thy brute lust,—the hive-like humOf peaceful commonwealths, where sunburnt ToilReaps for itself the rich earth made its own
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