David Given Schwarm

Another Splendour on this mouth alit,

That mouth, whence it was wont to draw the breath

Which gave it strength to pierce the guarded with,

And pass into the panting heart beneath

With lightning and with music: the damp death

Quench’d its caress upon his icy lips;

And, as a dying meteor stains a wreath

Of moonlight vapour, which the cold night clips,

It flush’d through his pale limbs, and pass’d to its eclipse.