Appendix to Lazarus, 6

Thou wast a maiden fair, so good and kindly,
So neat, so cool--in vain I waited blindly
Till came the hour wherein thy gentle heart
Would ope, and inspiration play its part.

Yea, inspiration for those lofty things
Which prose and reason deem but wanderings,
But yet for which the noble, lovely, good
Upon this earth rave, suffer, shed their blood.

Upon the Rhine’s fair strand, where vine-hills smile,
Once in glad summer days we roam’d the while;
Bright laugh’d the sun, sweet incense in that hour
Stream’d from the beauteous cup of every flower.

The purple pinks and roses breath’d in turn
Red kisses on us, which like fire did burn;
Even the smallest daisy’s faint perfume
Appear’d a life ideal then to bloom.

But thou didst peacefully beside me go,
In a white satin dress, demure and slow,
Like some girl’s portrait limn’d by Netscher’s art,
A little glacier seem’d to be thy heart.