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1851–1898

SEVENTH OPAL

George Parsons Lathrop

You say these jewels were accurst — With evil omen fraught. You should have known it from the first! This was the truth they taught:

No treasured thing in heaven or earth Holds potency more weird Than our hearts hold, that throb from birth With wavering flames insphered.

And when from me the gems you took, On that strange April day, My nature, too, I gave, that shook With passion's fateful play.

The mingled fate my love should give In these mute emblems shone, That more intensely burn and live — While I am turned to stone.

Listen now to what is said By the eighth opal, flashing red And pale, by turns, with every breath — The voice of the lover after death.

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SEVENTH OPAL · George Parsons Lathrop · Poetry Cove