THE banners of silence are drifting

On the sound less winds of the world :

And the dint of day is lifting ;

With dream are the wont-ways pearled.

With a lift of feathery silence

The dream-steps of Laelia glide

Into the heart of the gloom-stead

Washed by a shadowy tide

Where the waves of the darkening moment

Beat time to a drowsy tune,

Weaving their trance-white measure

Under the moon.