Page:The Yellow Book - 08.djvu/337

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Two Sonnets

By Maurice Baring


IBecause she listened to the quiring spheresWe thought she did not hear our homely strings;Stars diademed her hair in misty rings,Too late we understood those stars were tears.
Without she was a temple pure as snow,Within were piteous flames of sacrifice;And underneath the dazzling mask of iceA heart of swiftest fire was dying slow.
She in herself, as lonely lilies foldStiff silver petals over secret gold,Shielded her passion, and remained afarFrom pity:—Cast red roses on the pyre!She that was snow shall rise to Heaven as fireIn the still glory of the morning star.

You

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