Poems By Arjava

GLIMMER of day beam

Harbingers night's end

Swiftening of the stream

Looses the bubbles penned

Against their foam-white leap fore kenned.

O for a sword

To cleave the murk asunder ;

O for a heart assured

Amidst the torrent's thunder

To balk that Time-race thief of plunder.

Out of a questant morrow

Curlews drifting by

Send ekings of sorrow

Across the moorland sky—

And whimbrels pipe strange sevenfold cry.

If there be so much sadness

In the fore-end of the day,

What ort or lag of gladness

Is lapped in noontide's ray ?—

O scan the silver salmon's way.

Doffed was the sea-wont's ill

And the garb of wave-borne good,

Heading upriver still.

Following yonder hood,

Fain of reaching where high hills stood.

If glossed sea-wealth could hold him

In bitter loveless ways,

Some god should dream-enfold him

And echo through his days

That hest he swervelessly obeys.

Liegedom of Time is ended,

Souls in their freedom love,—

The steep foamfall ascended,

And the last gloomy clough ;

And a joy-vast sky azures above.