Into the silver dark the lovers went, Over the silver sea to golden isles, Piping their songs of heavenly wonderment And fabling the unhaunted age with smiles. And ever with the swift melodious miles A sterner harmony breathed through their bliss; “The old shall be outworn. That which reviles The gods shall perish by their ministries. But we will walk with truth: The best of life is this.” PART II I KNOW WHERE A DOVE---- I know where a dove sits brooding in the dark Nested in leaves the quiet boughs among; And when the midnight falls I lean to mark Her home where a star is hung. The star, it does not know the secret dove, The dove that firefly planet may not see. What lovelier things the night may fold from me---- The watching eye, the brooding heart, and love. PROLOCUTOR O for one of the stars to know me, To say “That is she” as I say “It is there.” O for my hills to show me If they care. But when I speak to them nothing hears me. Even the bird on the near bough fears me. The fire on my hearth does not know that it cheers me. ... Heart that waits by the fire, do you guess All you must voice in your tenderness? WONDER Here are the shadows veiling green with grey And winning all the wonder from the light; Here phantom fragrance swells and fails like sound; The hour distills itself to dark; the day Dreams in its grave and lo, the dream is night. Beloved, all the marvel of the May, The altared dark, the petals’ solemn white, The moments rich with farewell from the lips Of dying moments--what are these? We lay Our love beside them and exceed the night. A MEETING I hear a sound like piping and like sails In silken talk with wind and like the speech Of someone quiet in the blue of dawn Upon a quiet beach. I see a light as when the last star Flowers faintly in the ashen morning sky And long wings appear and disappear, Wheeling by. I think of moons forgotten with their tides; I think of all the red of east and west; I hear the secret stir of nameless dead Conferring in my breast. You make me long for colour and for song And for old words on lips I did not know. You make me dream of all I learned to dream How long ago. HALF THOUGHT O Day of Wind and laughter, A goddess born are you Whose eyes are in the morning Blue--blue. The slumberous noon your body is, Your feet are the shadows’ flight. But the immortal soul of you Is night. EPITAPH He loved to lie where Summer lay, His roof a cloud, a bough; There stretched full-length to dream all day. It is so with him now. EPITAPH