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POEMS.
The centuries through, and of the ancient state
Keep up the semblance. Never footstep rings
Across the stones; and yet, if sun but flings
One ray, a gleam, like gleam of burnished plate
On mailed men, thy hands have lit, and sent
Along the gray and tottering battlement,
And flung out yellow banners, pricked with red,
Which need not shame a royal house to spread.
Ah, golden-winged, the whole of thy deep spell
I cannot fathom, and thou wilt not tell.
Keep up the semblance. Never footstep rings
Across the stones; and yet, if sun but flings
One ray, a gleam, like gleam of burnished plate
On mailed men, thy hands have lit, and sent
Along the gray and tottering battlement,
And flung out yellow banners, pricked with red,
Which need not shame a royal house to spread.
Ah, golden-winged, the whole of thy deep spell
I cannot fathom, and thou wilt not tell.
SHADOWS OF BIRDS.
N darkened air, alone with pain,I lay. Like links of heavy chain
The minutes sounded, measuring day,
And slipping lifelessly away.
Sudden across my silent room
A shadow darker than its gloom
Swept swift; a shadow slim and small
Which poised and darted on the wall,
And vanished quickly as it came;
A shadow, yet it lit like flame;
A shadow, yet I heard it sing,
And heard the rustle of its wing,
Till every pulse with joy was stirred;
It was the shadow of a bird!
Only the shadow! Yet it made
Full summer everywhere it strayed;
Full summer everywhere it strayed;
