The Face of the Star

By George Sterling

Thy beauty, perilous with all delight,
    Comes to me as a sunset or a morn
    Whose breathless rose the gods have made forlorn
And set apart by frontiers of the night.
O dream accorded on a mystic height!
    O goddess wandered from a secret bourne!
    So fair that other Visions end in scorn,
So dear that nothing else is worth the sight.

But dear no less to find in thee the pow'r
    To summon rapture and the swords thereof:
    Oh! marvellous! to gaze into thine eyes,
Now, as the ages blossom to an hour,
    And see earth irised by die tears of love;
        And at a. kiss to enter Paradise!

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