Words fiery-hearted yet, dreams and desires Whose voice comes as the voice of an only child Been Beautiful, miserable, distraught— The Law no man may baffle denied and slew. The spell-bound ships stand as at gaze To let the marvel by. The grey road glooms. . . . What grace, what glamour, what wild will, Transfigure the shadows? Whose, Heart of my heart, Soul of my soul, but yours? Ghosts-ghosts-the sapphirine air Teems with them even to the gleaming ends Everywhere everywhere-till I and you At last-dear love, at last!— Are in the dreaming, even as Life and Death, ΧΙ GULLS in an aëry morrice Gulls in an aëry morrice Circle and swoop and close Fuller and ever fuller The rose of the morning blows. Gulls, in an aëry morrice Frolicking, float and fade . . . O, the way of a bird in the sunshine, The way of a man with a maid! XII SOME starlit garden grey with dew, Behind, a past that scolds and jeers Think on the shame of dreams for deeds, The scandal of unnatural strife, The slur upon immortal needs, Arise! no more a living lie, XIII To James McNeill Whistler UNDER a stagnant sky, Gloom out of gloom uncoiling into gloom, The River, jaded and forlorn, Welters and wanders wearily-wretchedly—on ; Yet in and out among the ribs Of the old skeleton bridge, as in the piles (Once, O, the unvoiced music of my heart!) It sounds as it might tell The secret of the unending grief-in-grain, What of the incantation That forced the huddled shapes on yonder shore To take and wear the night Like a material majesty? That touched the shafts of wavering fire About this miserable welter and wash (River, O River of Journeys, River of Dreams !)— Into long, shining signals from the panes Of an enchanted pleasure-house, Where life and life might live life lost in life O Death! O Change! O Time! |