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MYSTERIES :
THE MORNING OF DISILLUSION-
MENT.
HE Eve of Love has faded
To this unhallowed morn ;
Of which these laughters shaded
With bitterness are born,
With tears and cruel sighing
‘The day springs up undying
Toward the crucifying
Of Love with nails of scorn.
Nailed to a cross of iron
My bleeding bosom hangs ;
Love’s serpents all environ
My heart with tameless fangs.
Unshaken, tortured, stricken
By agonies that thicken
I hang, and sweat, and sicken,
With miserable pangs.
I found out Love new-risen
From seas I thought had slain
His passion in their prison,
And girt their icy chain.