THE STRANGER
Spurred his heel, dark his cloak,
Shady-wide his bonnet’s brim;
His horse beneath a silvery oak
Grazed as I talked with him.
Softly his breast-brooch burned and shone;
Hill and deep were in his eyes;
One of his hands held mine, and one
The fruit that makes men wise.
Wonderly strange was earth to see,
Flowers white as milk did gleam;
Spread to Heaven the Assyrian Tree
Over my head with Dream.
Dews were still betwixt us twain;
Stars a trembling beauty shed;
Yet—not a whisper comes again
Of the words he said.
THE FLIGHT
A crown of flower-like light in heaven,
Where in the hollow arch of space
Morn’s mistress dreams, and the Pleiads seven
Stand watch about her place.
Stand watch—O days no number keep
Of hours when this dark clay is blind.
When the world’s clocks are dumb in sleep
’Tis then I seek my kind.