THE LOST WORLD
What hues, what dances
Do I remember
Lighter than leaves dancing
And red November?
Why does my heart whisper
Under the trees,
“There are brighter colours and lighter
Dancers than these”?
What dream more golden
In firelight hovers
Than these faces of friends
And trusty lovers?
Why does my heart whisper
In this gay peace,
“There are bolder lovers and older
Comrades than these”?
PROSE POEMS
DAWN
Arise!—Arise!
Dew, like a thousand gems, is in the hair of the dear earth eager to dance.