Poems
Spreads, by some goddess of the twilight planned,
A cloudy world of formless trees and flowers,
A cloudy world of formless trees and flowers,
Where with cool hands the placid gardener, night,
Waters the blossoms of the pale moonlight
With quiet dews of unregarded hours.
Waters the blossoms of the pale moonlight
With quiet dews of unregarded hours.
II. The Sky
How far, how far; with unavailing eye,
Shall the frail sight grasp night's significance,
Or pierce the trackless, terrible expanse,
The vast and awful desert of the sky?
If all the labouring world in one vast sigh
Melted and vanished from its ancient place,
Would any ripple stir the seas of Space,
Or the least echo sorrow in reply?
Shall the frail sight grasp night's significance,
Or pierce the trackless, terrible expanse,
The vast and awful desert of the sky?
If all the labouring world in one vast sigh
Melted and vanished from its ancient place,
Would any ripple stir the seas of Space,
Or the least echo sorrow in reply?
58
