Will you not, dare you not,
Is it never meet?
I will never let them know——
Sweet, my Spirit, pardon me!
I had forgot that stars are new
And that it is the dawn of earth.
Doors and garments and spells I must make for myself.
Among ten thousand of us I must find silence.
HALF THOUGHT
I saw Fair Yellow in the west,
Fair Yellow in the air,
The sand, the corn, a bird’s breast,
A woman’s hair.
At night
My little room burst into light——
Fair Yellow had come there.
Fair Yellow is a being.
For when I said her name
I found a way of seeing
Her as she came.
O how
Do our dull senses fail us now
And leave us in some elemental shame!
There is so much to see and say
If we could find the way....
UMBRA
The birds of the air are about me
For I am the conjuring one;
How they dip and hover and circle
Through hyaline regions of sun.
One has a wing like a petal,
One wears a feather of flame,
Silk and snow is the breast of another
With a word like a flute for a name.
How they sing ... in the morning,
Tilting soft the light beat of their flight;
How their passionate chorales give cadence
Down the ample arcade of the night.
Yes, the songs of the air are about me
Sweet ... clear ... but they sing
Of the light of another morning
In the deep of another Spring.