Poems By Arjava

HIGH over glen, tarn, pool or chine,

Hills, forest lands, cloud-ways, ocean foam,

Beyond the ethers and the sun's tethered home

And the last sphere-wall set with starry shine,

My spirit skims ; as one who weds the sea

And swims in tune with rhythmic waves of sleep,

He sends a joyous furrow through the deep,—

Vain mesh of words to snare such ecstasy !

Flee far away from fever-sullen places,

O self; be rinsed of taint on heights divine,

And quaff that pure, that quintessential wine

Of clear fire filling the limpid spaces.

Past this wearying bulk of undelight

That cumbers all our mist-enfolded world,

Happy the one who with limber wings unfurled

Voyages to peace and lovely lawns of light ;

He who his thoughts, like larks with quivering wings,

At each day's dawn for heavenward flight unpens,

Who soars o'er life and effortlessly kens

The hidden speech of flowers and all dumb things.