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Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson


The Mirror Speaks


Where the bells peal far at sea
Cunning fingers fashioned me.
There on palace walls I hung
While that Consuelo sung;
But I heard, though I listened well,
Never a note, never a trill,
Never a beat of the chiming bell.
There I hung and looked, and there
In my grey face, faces fair
Shone from under shining hair.
Well, I saw the poising head,
But the lips moved and nothing said;
And when lights were in the hall,
Silent moved the dancers all.
So awhile I glowed, and then
Fell on dusty days and men;
Long I slumbered packed in straw,
Long I none but dealers saw;
Till before my silent eye
On that sees came passing by.
Now with an outlandish grace,
To the sparkling fire I face
In the blue room at Skerryvore;
Where I wait until the door
Open, and the Prince of Men,
Henry James, shall come again. 



Robert Louis Stevenson


Robert Louis Stevenson's other poems:
  1. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 13. Mater Triumphans
  2. About the Sheltered Garden Ground
  3. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 39. Tropic Rain
  4. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 8. TO you, let snow and roses
  5. Songs of Travel and Other Verses. 35. THE tropics vanish, and meseems that I


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