I never knew the earth had so much gold—
The fields run over with it, and this hill
Hoary and old,
Is young with buoyant blooms that flame and thrill.
Such golden fires, such yellows—lo, how good
This spendthrift world, and what a lavish God—
This fringe of wood,
Blazing with buttercup and goldenrod.
You too, beloved, are changed. Again I see
Your face grow mystical, as on that night
You turned to me,
And all the trembling world—and you—were white.
Aye, you are touched; your singing lips grow dumb;
The fields absorb you, color you entire...
And you become
A goddess standing in a world of fire!
SUNDAY NIGHT
Tossing, throughout this tense and nervous night
Sleepless I drowse. My soul, for lack of rest,
Sinks like a bird, that after flight on flight
Misses the shelter of its well-loved nest.
So would I gain your side and seek, my love,
The comfortable heaven of your breast.
Once more to lie beside the window seat,
And see, far off, the ribboned river-lights,
The yellow gas-lamps in the dusky street—
And pressing close, from proud and alien heights,
The noble skies and the inviolate stars
Surround and bless us these autumnal nights.
No words—the silence and your breathless name
Are all that's in the world; and faint and fair
The distant church-bells solemnly proclaim
To all the meek and sabbath-scented air...
I take you in my arms ... and I awake
Groping, with restless anger, for a prayer.