PETER: My maiden, with thy cornflower-blue gown,
Rise, when lifting yellow-fogs; filtering down,
Upon great elms in a small patch of wood;
...
O Alade, most beautiful and fair,
With an eye, like the mustard seed;
...
The norm of the sky, the hue of the day,
When the morning wakens with summer's ray,
O remember, the fireflies' silvery light;
...
My dear one, O awake from thy cold-sleep,
Like an opening rose in a summer's call,
...
After passing through the flames of failure,
We would widely wave a victory's flag;
...
In fragile sleep, minds lost to nightmares' flight,
On the pillow of darker-griefs; last night,
...
Dialogue.
PETER: My maiden, with thy cornflower-blue gown,
Rise, when lifting yellow-fogs; filtering down,
Upon great elms in a small patch of wood;
Carv'd in jasmine filigree, where birds brood.
PEACE: I'd rise, like a budding plants on dewy ground,
And like wild 'range flames, clip-clipping o'er mound,
Star-like knotted flowers of fragrant scent;
Under the moon's bright-white waxing crescent.
PETER: When garlands are streaming down the knoll's
crest,
And the sun leaves the day in dusk to rest;
Be with me, in early signs of the spring,
With thy royal heart, filled with balmy zing.
PEACE: Upon the stepping-stones, with me, O dance
,
With thy short-quick steps, soothing countenance;
And to the green-coated virgin festoon,
'neath the ash-stars, the children of the moon.
PETER: Let our love be seen, like a round-rainbow,
Over the shapeless mountains; high and low,
Let our echoes, shred a seasoned timber,
As we sing sweet songs hither and thiter.
PEACE: And I would hold thy wide-embracing hand,
So soften, pleasand like a grain of sand;
Feel my red-lips, embrace my lofty frame,
Cleanse the sloth on my brow, and praise my name. THE END.