And I sit in the loggia to-night Waiting for the moon to rise, She will not rise till midnight, And then she will rise, a poor half wreck of herself. No whippoorwill has sung to-night, And none will sing. And if there are youths and maids and children Hurrying into the dance on the water, Embracing and fading in light, I shall not see. No, in this darkness where I breathe The scent of the sweet alyssum Which you planted and tended I shall wait for midnight, And the rise of our ruined moon. In the darkness of the loggia Under a sky that hopes for no moon to-night, Save the wasted moon of midnight, I am filled with a deep happiness And a thankfulness to the Power Behind the sky: I am filled with a joy as wide and deep as nature That my love for you Can live without your love for me, And asks nothing of you, And nothing for you Save that you find what you seek! BE WITH ME THROUGH THE SPRING The snow has passed, the crocus blooms, A swelling tide of life returns; Green lights invade the forest glooms, All nature wakes and yearns. The breeze lifts and the ships take wing To havens which we long have known; And yet--and yet I dread the spring, For fear you may be gone. Life gives us sweet delights and then Gathers them back and buries them deep. Oh, wanton hearts, that kill them when They do not tire or sleep. The breeze lifts and the ships take wing-- Be with me through the spring. DESOLATE SCYTHIA Χθονὀς μεν ἐς τηλουρὀν ἥκομεν πεδον--AES. When there are no distances in music, No far off things suggested of faery forests or celestial heights; When nothing undiscovered stands back of the written page, And the landscape contains nothing hidden, And no alluring spirits of further places; When no more in eyes shines the light of mystery, And the thrill of discovered kinships Has fallen into the familiar recognition That takes all men and women As daily associates of an accustomed world, Then you have come to the uttermost plain of earth Where lie the rocks of desolate Scythia. THE SEARCH When the hill grows green at midway time, And bronze buds toss in the lane It is sweet to follow the river swallow Where the tiles are red from rain. When the slanting wind shakes apple blossoms, And the willow trees are bowed The balcony banners flutter up Where sails the hilltop cloud. The balcony banners are ever the same Wherever the heart may stray; One sports the tiger and one the dragon Whether you weep or play. Where Little Boy Blue and the Knave of Hearts And the Goose Girl dance on the green; Where Knights in red and gold ride forth Guarding the King and Queen;