TO THE TRAVELLER

SONG TO DEATH

SONG TO DEATH

The art of the frighten'd to death;

A straw for the clutching last breath.

So soothing, so cool and so far?

Degraded to Portals ajar!

O where is the song of the soul—?

A nude and a beautiful whole.

[Pg 62]

Unclouded immeasurable night?

Still flawless of hope or afright—?

The dewy fresh song of my soul,

To a dewy unblemishing goal;

Ungarnished, unmastered with art,

May garner for treasure of heart.

The sweet measured tongue laps of art,

Or maketh a ball room of heart.

Where Day ever bendeth at noon

At sight of the guerdon so soon.

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