Do not lay thy rapture down.

THE MEMORY OF EARTH

In the wet dusk silver-sweet,

Down the violet scented ways,

As I moved with quiet feet

I was met by mighty days.

On the hedge the hanging dew

Glassed the eve and stars and skies;

While I gazed a madness grew

Into thundered battle cries.

[26]

Where the hawthorn glimmered white,

Flashed the spear and fell the stroke—

Ah, what faces pale and bright

Where the dazzling battle broke!

There a hero-hearted queen

With young beauty lit the van.

Gone! the darkness flowed between

All the ancient wars of man.

While I paced the valley's gloom

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