My born yet unborn,

Shadow not fallen

O, undawning morn—

O, message unbroken.

Why, how, when?

I wait, wait for you,

O embrace of earth and heaven;

O, Old! O, New!

[1] "O, Old! O, New!" is the cry of a "Poáti," e. g., a mother's cry to her unborn child. "Poáti" has no precise English synonym.

[1]

[8]

[8]

5

The far away called her—

A pilgrim on the hope-lit bark of youth,

A woman, a child, a soul

On an argosy for the lands of south.

It called her in her dreams;

Her waking into a deeper dream grew;

The flute of the distant

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