LATE TWILIGHT AND SOME MUSIC

PERFUME too faint to stir the chords of dream—,

The sough of tiny waves from pearl-grey sea—,

Lustres of day, as pollen stains a bee,

Curdle the air to an opaline shadow-shot gleam.

Then, every furthest fibre being at rest,—

The gates of inner hearing opened wide,—

Bars of clear music through grey stillness glide,

Raising a rhythm-sun, regoldening the west.

Glamour of Schubert, ring after golden ring

Widen—and the heart with them—to far other clime,

A sovran Beauty no more at odds with Time,

And the being's adoring that will gain bright plumage, puissant wing.

March 11 , 1936.