By each cold spire the moon sets fire,

By every palm

Whose silvery calm

Pillar and jewelled porch pray under.

Is it dawn that is breaking?... No,

Only a star that falls in the sea,

Only a wind-bell's louder flow

Of praise to Lord Gautama.

Faithless dawn! with illusive feet

It comes too late to ease his fate.

He sinks asleep

A helpless heap,

Tho for it he may never reach Nirvana.

[Pg 25]

[Pg 25]

THE SHIPS OF THE SEA

Into port when the sun was setting

Rode the ship that bore my love,

Over the breakers wildly fretting,

Under the skies that shone above.

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