The Forest of the Sky

High in the forest of the sky

The stars and branches interlace;

As cloth-of-gold the fallen leaves lie

Where twilight-peacocks lord the place,

Spendthrifts of pride and grace.

The grapes on vines are rubies red,

They burn as flame, when day is done.

The Dusk, brown Princess, turns her head

While sunset-panthers past her run

To caverns of the Sun.

She throws cord-reins of sunbeams wrought,

About the sunset-panthers, fleet,

And rides them joyously, when caught,

Across the poppied fields of wheat—

Their hearts with terror beat.

They reach the caverns of the Sun,

The raven-clouds above them fly;

Dame Night her tapestry’s begun.

High, o’er the forest of the sky

The moon, a boat, sails by.

My son is dead and I am going blind,

And in the Ishmael-wind of grief

I tremble like a leaf;

I have no mind for any word you say:

My son is dead and I am going blind.