Flamed and awoke her slumbering magic.
Softlier than moth's her pinions trembled;
Out into blackness, light-like, she flittered,
Leaving her hollow cold, forsaken.
In air, o'er crystal, rang twangling night-wind.
Bare, rimed pine-woods murmured lament.
THE FLOWER
HORIZON to horizon, lies outspread
The tenting firmament of day and night;
Wherein are winds at play; and planets shed