Poems By Arjava

THOSE are too fierce, they mock my fading prime

Rubies of passion—and amethyst desire—

Emerald un withering, a bitter gibe of Time,—

Shall these be my attire ?

Bring them no longer, and let no diamond flash

In locks that my Catullus cannot see ;

His sapphire eyes mere unimploring ash :

Take sapphires far from me.

But set a few pale opals in my hair

To entwine the autumn rays with watery flame,

Or hue less jade, idle as moon's despair,

Heedless to joy or shame.