Fays

One secret night, I stood where ocean pours Eternal waters on the yellow shores,

And saw the drift of fays that Prosper saw : (Their feet had no more sound than blowing straw.)

And little hands held light in little hands

They chased a fleeing billow down the sands, But turned in the nick o' time, and mad with

glee

Raced back again before the swelling sea.

In Death Valley

There came gray stretches of volcanic plains, Bare, lone and treeless, then a bleak lone

hill,

Like to the dolorous hill that Dobell saw. Around were heaps of ruins piled between The Burn o' Sorrow and the Water o' Care; And from the stillness of the down-crushed

walls

One pillar rose up dark against the moon. There was a nameless Presence everywhere; In the gray soil there was a purple stain, And the gray reticent rocks were dyed with blood

Blood of a vast unknown Calamity.

It was the mark of some ancestral griefGrief that began before the ancient Flood.

At Dawn

Just then the branches lightly stirred. . . .
See, out o' the apple boughs a bird
Bursts music-mad into the blue abyss:
Rothschild would give his gold for this-
The wealth of nations, if he knew:
(And find a profit in the business, too.)

"Follow Me "

O friend, we never choose the better part,
Until we set the Cross up in the heart.
I know I can not live until I die-

Till I am nailed upon it wild and high, And sleep in the tomb for a full three days dead,

With angels at the feet and at the head. But then in a great brightness I shall rise To walk with stiller feet below the skies.

In Poppy Fields

Here the poppy hosts assemble:
How they startle, how they tremble!
All their royal hoods unpinned
Blow out lightly in the wind.
Here is gold to labor for;
Here is pillage worth a war.

Men that in the cities grind,
Come! before the heart is blind,