Dread
DREAD
Scarlet, ruinous roses,
Unfolding under the sea . . .
Though far in the deep, and slow of growth,
They call to me, call to me.
Day-long I serve my father's need;
I do the housework duly;
Dusk . . . nor the idle stars I heed;
I say my night-prayers, truly.
Scarlet, poisonous roses,
Unfolded under the sea . . .
Far off, slow, and of tangled growth,
They call to me, cling to me.
NOCTURNE
Which is the lovelier, between clear spaces of the lake and the night-sky,
The mountain edges against heaven, or shadow of the mountains in the water?
Which light more lovely; keen stars, burning big in the purple darkness,
Or star-shimmer in the depths—thin lines like wavering lanterns?
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