Poems By Arjava

NO, these are rags of the departing Night;

They speak no more the truth of I and thee ;

They'll come as phantoms of their vanished might,

And as false dreams at the" edge of knowing flee.

When I am nothing, that the rays of dawn

May pass unhindered on their flight to thee,

And when all merged in silences that yawn

Before the echoing cliffs of birdcall, we

Shall dream no more the differing adverse thing,

But now look forth upon the crested sea

Foam-white in clear dawn, and hear the tall wave fling

The sovran music of that victory.