Love Letters of a Violinist, and Other Poems

by Eric Mackay

I half forget the cause I have to weep;

And, like a reaper in the realms of sleep,

I hear the bird of morning where he floats

High in the welkin, and in fairy boats

I see the minstrels sail upon the deep.

XII.

In mid-suspension of my leaping bow

I almost hear the silence of the night;

And, in my soul, I know the stars are bright