56 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
TO LAURA. 
 
 
ISTRESS, I pray thee, when the wind 
 Exults upon the roaring sea, 
Come to my bosom, kissed and kind, 
 And sleep upon the lips of me. 
 
Dream on my breast of quiet days, 
 Kindled of slow absorbing fire. 
Sleep, while I ponder on the ways 
 And secret paths of my desire. 
 
Dream, while my restless brain probes deep 
 The mysteries of its magic power, 
The secrets of forgotten sleep, 
 The birth of knowledge as a flower. 
 
Slow and divine thy gentle breath 
 Woos my warm throat :  my spirit flies 
Beyond the iron walls of death, 
 And seeks strange portals, pale and wise. 
 
My lips are fervent, as in prayer, 
 Thy lips are parted, as to kiss : 
My hand is clenched upon the air, 
 Thy hand’s soft touch, how sweet it is ! 
  M