Sometime or where, by day or dream,

I know not which, for it seems enspelled

As I am by its memory.

Pale minarets of the Prophet pierce

Above it into the white of the skies,

And sails enchanted a thousand years

Flit at its feet while fancy steers.

No face of all its faces to me

Is known—no passion of it or pain.

It is but a city by the sea,

Enshrined forever beyond my eyes!

[Pg 58]

[Pg 58]

VIA AMOROSA

(To A. H. R.)

When we two walk, my love, on the path

The moon makes over the sea,

To the end of the world where sorrow hath

An end that is ecstasy,

Should we not think of the other road

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