Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/178

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164
DON RAFAEL.

"Something not alien quite
To tender ruth, perchance their breast shall fill,
Seeing him that was so mobile grown so still,
The fiery-veined so white.

"And when the dance is o’er,
The pinched guitar, the smitten tambourine,
Have ceased their rhythmic beat,—oh, friends of mine,
On my rich bier, then pour

"The garlands that ye wear,
The happy rose that on your bosom breathes,
The fresh-culled clusters and the dewy wreaths
That crown your fragrant hair.

"Though blind, I still shall see,
Though dead, shall feel your presence and shall know,
I who was beauty s life-long slave, shall so
Win her in death to me.

"Thanks, sisters, and farewell!
Back to your joys. My brother shall make room
For my tried sword upon the high-piled bloom,
And fire the pinnacle.

"My soul, pure flame, shall leap
To meet its parent essence once again.

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