A MISTY MORNING
LOW-arched above me as I moved the hollowed air was clear;
Beyond was whiteness dim and strange, and spectral shapes drew near.
Upon the little shore of brown that touched the misty sea,
Upon the shadowy borderland, one paused and looked at me;
Then hurried on with greeting smile and sudden vivid face:
A friend had started into life within my magic space!
Into the world of ghosts again I watched him fade away—
First black he was, then dim he was, then merged in formless grey.
TWO SONGS
YOU love the chant of green,
The low-voiced trees, the meadow’s monotone.
O friend of mine, it is for these you pray.
This alien land must call unheard, unseen,
While one beloved note your heart has known,
To hunger for it, half a world away.
Come with me to my height,
And stand at sunset when the winds are still,
Watching the hollow valleys brim with light,
The red and brown and yellow hills—they shout,
And on the shoulders of the marching host
The bayonets are gleaming points of white.