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A Legend of the DoveAuthor(s): George SterlingSource: Poetry, Vol. 1, No. 3 (Dec., 1912), p. 75Published by: Poetry FoundationStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/20569659 .
Accessed: 16/05/2014 15:50
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This content downloaded from 194.29.185.69 on Fri, 16 May 2014 15:50:32 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
A LEGEND OF THE DOVE
Soft from the linden's bough, Unmoved against the tranquil afternoon,
Eve's dove laments her now: "Ah, gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon?"
That yearning in his voice Told not to Paradise a sorrow's tale:
As other birds rejoice He sang, a brother to the nightingale.
By twilight on her breast He saw the flower sleep, the star awake;
And calling her from rest, Made all the dawn melodious for her sake.
And then the Tempter's breath, The sword of exile and the mortal chain
The heritage of death That gave her heart to dust, his own to pain...
In Eden desolate The seraph heard his lonely music swoon,
As now, reiterate; "Ah gone! long gone! shall not I find thee soon?"
George Sterling
[75]
This content downloaded from 194.29.185.69 on Fri, 16 May 2014 15:50:32 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions