DISILLUSION

The night was like a jewell’d crown—

(Could jewels be so soft a thing!)

For stars and wind were in the town

And by the highways entering,

Plucked there as on a viol string,

Until—somewhere—a woman’s scream—

Sharply shattered the dream!

Silence within

The upper twilight of a temple lies

Asleep, with pendant plumes—a dreaming god—

And dreams the pageantry of things—and dreams

The gifts that he has given with his hands—

The gifts that he has taken with his hands—

And dreams his own eternity.

* * *

I am one that loves

The stars of labyrinthine night whom the shrill dawn

Devours, the quietude of ultimate slopes

Thoughtful of twilight, peering moons that shed

Unrisen glamours thru the umbrageous wood

With gnome and goblin rife, and the light spray

Of gray spring rains enveloping the hills.

SONG

Would I were a bird

To nest in a cover

Of leaves that hover

’Twixt earth and heaven

Where no sound is heard—

Only the uneven

Brush of winds that slumber

With no thought to cumber;

Would I were a bird!

Would I were a wave

To rise for a moment

From the ocean’s foment,

To puff my lips asunder

Blowing bubbles brave,

To dream and to wonder

Of the depths below me

And the winds that blow me—

Would I were a wave!

Bird, canst thou fashion

Song of things that grieve thee?

Wave hast thou passion

For things that will deceive thee?

Bird and wave I leave ye!

RONDEAU

A Sunday-calm, ornate, profound,

Enchanting sense, subduing sound,

Enjoins its ritual to prepare;

The day is bland with unctuous prayer

That leaps to heaven at a bound.

And bells ope throats in mellow round

Of sweet antiphonal resound,

And virtue glistens everywhere—

A Sunday-calm.

Draw breath! Away to virgin ground!

But where the fields are flower-crowned

The cattle with self-conscious stare

Chide my undeprecative air,—

Good heavens! Can they too have found

A Sunday-calm?

SUNSET BURIAL

The trees upheaven filigrane fingers of desire

To touch a ruby-throated cloud-face fanned

By a bronze breath and globous mouth of fire;

Beneath, the rigid gravestones stand,

Each one a cadaver that cannot close its hand.