By Still Waters

Book Excerptpriestess of the Wise. A WOMAN'S VOICEHis head within my bosom lay, But yet his spirit slipped not through: I only felt the burning clayThat withered for the cooling dew. It was but pity when I spokeAnd called him to my heart for rest, And half a mother's love that wokeFeeling his head upon my breast: And half the lion's tendernessTo shield her cubs from hurt or death, Which, when the serried hunters press, Makes terrible her wounded breath. But when the lips I breathed uponAsked for such love as equals claimI looked where all the stars were goneBurned in the day's immortal flame.'Come thou like yon great dawn to meFrom darkness vanquished, battles done: Flame unto flame shall flow and beWithin thy heart and mine as one.'PARTINGAs from our dream we died away