Category: Poetry
The Catholic World, Vol. 19, April 1874‐September 1874
O wind of night! what doth she at this hour In those high towers half lost in rock and brake? Where is she? Sits she lonely in her bower? If she is pensive, is it for my sake?
Chapters
2. Part II.
There musing sit I, day by day; I sing my psalm; I pray for thee: “If men could love, not hate,” I say, “How like to heaven this earth would be!”
4. Part IV.No merchant from the isles of spice Who stands in hushed hareem or hall Who parts his goods, and names the price, Was I, O friend! I gave thee all.
5. Part V.His breath came quick: his brows grew dark: “My brother, lover, friend,” I cried: He reeled: his eyes were stiff and stark: I wept, “This day thou winn’st thy bride!”
1. Part I.O wind of night! what doth she at this hour In those high towers half lost in rock and brake? Where is she? Sits she lonely in her bower? If she is pensive, is it for my sake?
3. Part III.Beside the well she stood, and water drew: The bowl, high held in both her hands, I drained; She smiled, and sparkles showered of gelid dew On my hot hair, and brows with travel...