VII.

No sceptre, orb, or mystic toy

Proclaims his godship, young and warm:

He sits alone, a naked boy,

Clad in the beauty of his form.

Dark, solemn stars, of radiance mild,

His eyes illume the golden shade,

And sweetest lips that never smiled

The finger hushes, on them laid.

The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 15, No. 92, June, 1865 A Magazine of Literature, Art, and Politics · 第 15 / 65 题