Over silent waters day descending night ascending floods the gentle glory of the sunset In a golden greeting splendidly to westward as pale twilight trem- bles into Darkness comes the last light's gracious exhortation Lifting up to peace so when life shall falter standing on the shores of the eternal god May I behold my sunset Flooding over silent waters THE LOVER SPEAKS Your little voice Over the wires came leaping and I felt suddenly dizzy With the jostling and shouting of merry flowers wee skipping high-heeled flames courtesied before my eyes or twinkling over to my side Looked up with impertinently exquisite faces floating hands were laid upon me I was whirled and tossed into delicious dancing up Up with the pale important stars and the Humorous moon dear girl How I was crazy how I cried when I heard over time and tide and death leaping Sweetly your voice EPITAPH Tumbling-hair picker of buttercups violets dandelions And the big bullying daisies through the field wonderful with eyes a little sorry Another comes also picking flowers * * * * * S. FOSTER DAMON INCESSU PATUIT DEUS The little clattering stones along the street Dance with each other round my swimming feet; The street itself, as in some crazy dream, Streaks past, a half-perceived material stream. Brighter than early dawn's most brilliant dye Are blown clear bands of color through the sky, That swirl and sweep and meet, to break and foam Like rainbow veils upon a bubble's dome. Yours are the songs that burst about my ears, Or blow away as many-colored spheres. You are the star that made the skies all bright, Yet tore itself away in flaming flight; You are the tree that suddenly awoke; You are the rose that came to life and spoke.... Guided by you, how we might stroll towards death, Our only music one another's breath, Through gardens intimate with hollyhocks, Where silent poppies burn between the rocks, By pools where birches bend to confidants Above green waters scummed with lily-plants. There we might wander, you and I alone, Through gardens filled with marble seats moss-grown, And fountains--water-threads that winds disperse-- While in the spray the birds sit and converse.