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IS

OURTEEN small broidered berries on the hem

Fof Circe's mantle, each of magic gold;

Fourteen of lone Calypso's tears that roll'd
Into the sea, for pearls to come of them;
Fourteen clear signs of omen in the gem
With which Medea human fate foretold;
Fourteen small drops, which Faustus, growing old,
Craved of the Fiend, to water Life's dry stem.
It is the pure white diamond Dante brought
To Beatrice; its sapphire Laura wore

When Petrarch cut it sparkling out of thought;
The ruby Shakespeare hewed from his heart's core ;
The dark, deep emerald that Rossetti wrought
For his own soul, to wear for evermore.

EUGENE LEE-HAMILTON.

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