A LIZARD at his ease walks on the floor

As if he sensed some quietness in the room

You quitted this half hour : since through 'that door

Only your body went ; as fireflies loom

And circle, when the sun has dowsed his flame,

In scattered gleams like tinkling of a bell,

So with soft wing your mood's own quiet came

And the heart of stillness answered, " All is well."

" Go then, thou wing-borne Figure of his mood.

And may thy feathery wafting fan his eyes

And, o'er his lips, may shadowy pinions brush

Building him dreams of music from their hush ;

So all in tune his body shall arise,

Still linked with joy even in solitude."