78 
THE SOUL OF OSIRIS. 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SYNTHESIS. 
 
 
HEN I think of the hundreds of women I have 
 
loved from time to time, 
White throats and living bosoms where a kiss might 
creep or climb, 
Smooth eyes and trembling fingers, faint lips or mur-
derous hair, 
All tunes of love’s own music, most various and rare ; 
When I look back on life, as a mariner on the deep 
Sees, tranced, the white wake foaming, fancies the 
nereids weep ; 
As, on a mountain summit in the thunders and the snow, 
I look to the shimmering valley and weep :  I loved 
you so ! 
For a moment cease the winds of God upon the reverent 
head ; 
I lose the life of the mountain, and my soul is with the 
dead ; 
Yet am I not unaware of the splendour of the height, 
Yet am I lapped in the glory of the Sun of Life and 
Light :— 
Even so my heart looks out from the harbour of God’s 
breast, 
Out from the shining stars where it entered into rest— 
 
  W