Respite

O Beauty, heal my heart! I lean to thee, Faint, having supped with horrors: give me drink! --Red slopes beneath tall pines, ranged tree on tree; Long cool gray lakes, with iris round the brink In knightly companies purple and proud; Birches as altar-candles slender and white; A late gold sun, traced curiously with cloud; The spacious splendors of the moon-filled night; Among the wild-rose crowds, the perfect one; White sea-gulls like white lilies, on brown bars That slant athwart blue bays; gulls in the sun Rising as galaxies of trembling stars: Lull me awhile, O Beauty, drug my dread! --To-morrow morn War stands beside my bed.