Daffodil Dawn

While I slept, and dreamed of you, Morning, like a princess, came, All in robe of palest blue: Stooped and gathered in that hour From the east a golden flower, Great and shining flower of flame . . . Then she hastened on her way Singing over plain and hill— While I slept and dreamed of you Dreams that never can come true . . Morning at the gates of Day, Gathered Dawn, the daffodil!

 

 

 

 

Beauty

I saw the face of Beauty—a pale rose In the gold dusk of her abundant hair . . . A silken web of dreams and joys—a snare . . A net of pleasures in a world of woes, A bright temptation for gay youth that goes Laughing upon his way without a care! A shield of light for conquering Love to bear Stronger than all the swords of all his foes.

O face of Beauty—O white dawn enshrined In sunrise veils of splendid hair—O star! Shine on those weary men who sadly wise But guess thy glory faintly from afar— Missing the marvel of thy smile—and blind To the imperial passion in thine eyes!

 

 

 

 

The Vision

I come from lonely downs and silent woods, With winter in my heart, a withered world, A heavy weight of dark and sorrowful things, And all my dreams spread out their rainbow wings, And turn again to those bright solitudes Where Beauty met me in a thousand moods, And all her shining banners were unfurled . . . And where I snatched from the sweet hands of Spring A crystal cup and drank a mystic wine, And walked alone a secret perfumed way, And saw the glittering Angels at their play. And heard the golden birds of Heaven sing, And woke . . . to find white lilies clustering And all the emerald wood an empty shrine, Fragrant with myrrh 

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