Over all, the stars,

Like friends, faithful

And changeless.

[Pg 37]

[Pg 37]

 A Poem of Color

Stretched on the ground beneath the Hawthorn,

The perfume of its blossoms mingled with falling petals, floats down to me.

Winged things alight there on the blanket of fragrance above,—a bunting, blue as the sky, a warbler, all gold, an Admiral, wings banded with crimson,

Make a poem of color of the Hawthorn tree.

[Pg 38]

[Pg 38]

 Dream

(Stratford-on-Avon)

One warm June evening

I sat in the churchyard

Of old Trinity. I sat there for hours

On an ancient stone, forgetting time.

The Avon, as silent as the centuries it had known,

Glided past, carrying me on with its memories.

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