Barrier not this, but a coward's refuge—

A shadow, not the rainbow-light of loving and life.

O come, my pilot, conduct the bark of our twin souls

From cold friendship's haven

Over love's boistrous desire-foam-fringéd ocean

Till in the sheer joy and fatigue of flying

We fail, fall and fade

Into the heart of Passion's another fire-born day.

[63]

[63]

55

Golden vines they,

These thin lines of light,

Climbing the sky-wall

After the sun sank into sleep.

Like rills, thread-like,

Seen from a jutting rock

Where air is dizzy

And fancy infinite, free.

What fiery wine

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