Clouds and skies and lakes and seas, Valleys and hills and grass and trees, Sun, moon, and stars, all stand to her Limbs of one lordless challenger, Who, without deigning taunt or frown, Throws a perennial gauntlet down: "Come conquer me and take thy toll." No cowardice or fear she knows, But, as once more she girds, there grows An unresignèd hopelessness From memory of former stress. Head bent, she muses whilst he waits: How with such weapons dint his plates? How quell this vast and sleepless giant Calmly, immortally defiant, How fell him, bind him, and control With a silver cord and a golden bowl? AT NIGHT Dark firtops foot the moony sky, Blue moonlight bars the drive; Here at the open window I Sit smoking and alive. Wind in the branches swells and breaks Like ocean on a beach; Deep in the sky and my heart there wakes A thought I cannot reach. FOR MUSIC Death in the cold grey morning Came to the man where he lay; And the wind shivered, and the tree shuddered And the dawn was grey. And the face of the man was grey in the dawn, And the watchers by the bed Knew, as they heard the shaking of the leaves, That the man was dead. THE ROOF I When the clouds hide the sun away The tall slate roof is dull and grey, And when the rain adown it streams 'Tis polished lead with pale-blue gleams. When the clouds vanish and the rain Stops, and the sun comes out again, It shimmers golden in the sun Almost too bright to look upon. But soon beneath the steady rays The roof is dried and reft of blaze, 'Tis dusty yellow traversed through By long thin lines of deepest blue. Then at the last, as night draws near, The lines grow faint and disappear, The roof becomes a purple mist A great square darkening amethyst Which sinks into the gathering shade Till separate form and colour fade, And it is but a patch which mars The beauty of a field of stars. II It stands so lonely in the sky The sparrows never come anigh, The glossy starlings seldom stop To preen and chatter on the top. For a whole week sometimes up there No wing-wave stirs the quiet air, The roof lies silent and serene As though no life had ever been; Till some bright afternoon, athwart The edge two sudden shadows dart, And two white pigeons with pink feet Flutter above and pitch on it. Jerking their necks out as they walk They talk awhile their pigeon-talk, A low continuous murmur blent Of mock reproaches and content. Then cease, and sit there warm and white An hour, till in the fading light They wake, and know the close of day, Flutter above, and fly away,