The Joy Of Life

Her hair was twined with vine leaves thro' the gold, The leopard skin about her shoulders flung Showed gleams of her as marble--fair and cold; I breathed not--listening to the song she sung.

Hither and thither thro' the solemn world, Glory of purple, passionate blazing red Glints thro' the gloom, and thro' the grey is swirled-- Ah! but the leaves twined sweet about her head.

"Heedless--men pass me in their search for life, Hunting for altars to their souls' fine fires, Crying the sun or joy of toil and strife And know not that 'tis I--their heart desires.

They dream not that the sheen on peacock's breast, The haze and perfume of a Summer's day, The silver stealing o'er the twilight West Are joys more rich than all the world's display."