Poems By Arjava

O WHO or what had called me

That blue-skied day—

Spring's aftermath of magic

And meadowsweet and hay ?

Across moon daisies nodding

In the dream-surge of grass

Time's haste less mirror fretted

By a swallow's keening pass ?

Certainly between each moment

And its mate was set

The wizard blade of the Timeless

Swordsman no man has met.

Thought at each crevice riven

Sped swirling through,—

A swift stream fringed with brooklime,

It danced to a rhythm of blue.

And like clear starlight flowing

That stream went by

Through the un regarding silence

To a fetterless rim of sky.