And thro the night I heard the rushing breath

Of ghost and witch and fool go whirling by.

I followed them, under the phantom sphere

Of the pale moon, along the Avon's near

And nimbused flowing, followed to his bier—

Who had evoked them first with mighty eye.

And as I gazed upon the peaceful spire

That points above earth's most immortal dust,

I could have asked God for His starry Lyre

Out of the skies to play my praise upon.

I could have shouted, as, O Wind, thou must,

"Here lies Humanity: kneel, and pass on."

[Pg 54]

[Pg 54]

THE IMAGE PAINTER

Up under the roof, in cold or heat,

Far up, aloof from the city street,

She sat all day

And painted gray

Cold idols, scarcely human.

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