Poems By Arjava

DARK pine trees soughing by the lakeside,

A steel-grey sky above,

A tilted slope of hills upended—

Too steep for Love.

Around dark mirror of the waters

Gauntly the high hills frown,

Framing a harsh bleak sky reflected

Where all loves drown.

No mellow fruit finds room afforded

Nor any golden wheat ;

Sour, shallow, rock-swayed roods betoken

Love's defeat.

Here soul—if any soul be prisoned—

Were phoenix, not paired dove :

Sole-Seen its image—found no other

Shape to love.