The naked soul in the sunlight…
Like a wisp of smoke in the sunlight
On the hill-side shimmering.
Dance light on the wind, little soul,
Like a thistle-down floating
Over the butterflies
And the lumbering bees…
Come away from that tree
And its shadow grey as a stone…
Bathe in the pools of light
On the hillside shimmering—
Shining and wetted and warm in the sun-spray falling like golden rain—
But do not linger and look
At that bleak thing under the tree.
THE STAR
Last night
I watched a star fall like a great pearl into the sea,
Till my ego expanding encompassed sea and star,
Containing both as in a trembling cup.
THE TIDINGS
(Easter 1916)
Censored lies that mimic truth…
Censored truth as pale as fear…
My heart is like a rousing bell—
And but the dead to hear…
My heart is like a mother bird,
Circling ever higher,
And the nest-tree rimmed about
By a forest fire…