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across the garden like a plume。 Over the trees a single bright star glows。
Dear garden of my childhood； here my years Have run away like little
grains of sand； The moments of my life； its hopes and fears Have all
found utterance here； where now I stand； My eyes ache with the weight
of unshed tears； You are my home； do you not understand？
Mirage
How is it that； being gone； you fill my days； And all the long nights
are made glad by thee？ No loneliness is this； nor misery； But great
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content that these should be the ways Whereby the Fancy； dreaming as she
strays； Makes bright and present what she would would be。 And who
shall say if the reality Is not with dreams so pregnant。 For delays And
hindrances may bar the wished…for end； A thousand misconceptions may
prevent Our souls from coming near enough to blend； Let me but think
we have the same intent； That each one needs to call the other； 〃friend！〃
It may be vain illusion。 I'm content。
To a Friend
I ask but one thing of you； only one； That always you will be my
dream of you； That never shall I wake to find untrue All this I have
believed and rested on； Forever vanished； like a vision gone Out into the
night。 Alas； how few There are who strike in us a chord we knew
Existed； but so seldom heard its tone We tremble at the half…forgotten
sound。 The world is full of rude awakenings And heaven…born castles
shattered to the ground； Yet still our human longing vainly clings To a
belief in beauty through all wrongs。 O stay your hand； and leave my
heart its songs！
A Fixed Idea
What torture lurks within a single thought When grown too constant；
and however kind； However welcome still； the weary mind Aches with its
presence。 Dull remembrance taught Remembers on unceasingly；
unsought The old delight is with us but to find That all recurring joy is
pain refined； Become a habit； and we struggle； caught。 You lie upon my
heart as on a nest； Folded in peace； for you can never know How crushed I
am with having you at rest Heavy upon my life。 I love you so You bind
my freedom from its rightful quest。 In mercy lift your drooping wings and
go。
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Dreams
I do not care to talk to you although Your speech evokes a thousand
sympathies； And all my being's silent harmonies Wake trembling into
music。 When you go It is as if some sudden； dreadful blow Had
severed all the strings with savage ease。 No； do not talk； but let us rather
seize This intimate gift of silence which we know。 Others may guess
your thoughts from what you say； As storms are guessed from clouds
where darkness broods。 To me the very essence of the day Reveals its
inner purpose and its moods； As poplars feel the rain and then
straightway Reverse their leaves and shimmer through the woods。
Frankincense and Myrrh
My heart is tuned to sorrow； and the strings Vibrate most readily to
minor chords； Searching and sad； my mind is stuffed with words Which
voice the passion and the ache of things： Illusions beating with their
baffled wings Against the walls of circumstance； and hoards Of torn
desires； broken joys； records Of all a bruised life's maimed imaginings。
Now you are come！ You tremble like a star Poised where； behind earth's
rim； the sun has set。 Your voice has sung across my heart； but numb
And mute； I have no tones to answer。 Far Within I kneel before you；
speechless yet； And life ablaze with beauty； I am dumb。
From One Who Stays
How empty seems the town now you are gone！ A wilderness of sad
streets； where gaunt walls Hide nothing to desire； sunshine falls Eery；
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distorted； as it long had shone On white； dead faces tombed in halls of
stone。 The whir of motors； stricken through with calls Of playing boys；
floats up at intervals； But all these noises blur to one long moan。 What
quest is worth pursuing？ And how strange That other men still go
accustomed ways！ I hate their interest in the things they do。 A
spectre…horde repeating without change An old routine。 Alone I know the
days Are still…born； and the world stopped； lacking you。
Crepuscule du Matin
All night I wrestled with a memory Which knocked insurgent at the
gates of thought。 The crumbled wreck of years behind has wrought Its
disillusion； now I only cry For peace； for power to forget the lie Which
hope too long has whispered。 So I sought The sleep which would not
come； and night was fraught With old emotions weeping silently。 I heard
your voice again； and knew the things Which you had promised proved
an empty vaunt。 I felt your clinging hands while night's broad wings
Cherished our love in darkness。 From the lawn A sudden； quivering
birdnote； like a taunt。 My arms held nothing but the empty dawn。
Aftermath
I learnt to write to you in happier days； And every letter was a piece I
chipped From off my heart； a fragment newly clipped From the mosaic
of life； its blues and grays； Its throbbing reds； I gave to earn your praise。
To make a pavement for your feet I stripped My soul for you to walk
upon； and slipped Beneath your steps to soften all your ways。 But now
my letters are like blossoms pale We strew upon a grave with hopeless
tears。 I ask no recompense； I shall not fail Although you do not heed； the
long； sad years Still pass； and still I scatter flowers frail； And whisper
words of love which no one hears。
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The End
Throughout the echoing chambers of my brain I hear your words in
mournful cadence toll Like some slow passing…bell which warns the soul
Of sundering darkness。 Unrelenting； fain To batter down resistance； fall
again Stroke after stroke； insistent diastole； The bitter blows of truth；
until the whole Is hammered into fact made strangely plain。 Where shall
I look for comfort？ Not to you。 Our worlds are drawn apart； our
spirit's suns Divided； and the light of mine burnt dim。 Now in the
haunted twilight I must do Your will。 I grasp the cup which over…runs；
And with my trembling lips I touch the rim。
The Starling
〃‘I can't get out'； said the starling。〃
Sterne's ‘Sentimental Journey'。
Forever the impenetrable wall Of self confines my poor rebellious
soul； I never see the towering white clouds roll Before a sturdy wind；
save through the small Barred window of my jail。 I live a thrall With
all my outer life a clipped； square hole； Rectangular； a fraction of a
scroll Unwound and winding like a worsted ball。 My thoughts are grown
uneager and depressed Through being always mine； my fancy's wings
Are moulted and the feathers blown away。 I weary for desires never
guessed； For alien passions；