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, Blood of a vast unknown Calamity. It was the mark of some ancestral grief- Just then the branches lightly stirred. . "Follow Me " O friend, we never choose the better |