Poems By Arjava

IF setting suns were quenched for aye,

Or gales could blow the stars away,

Then scant un mindfulness of you

Could prove my living thought untrue.

As soon the bee forget the hive

At heath ward flight or blossom-dive,

As one his nectar-load not guide

Again to your imagined side.

May compass needle turn awry

Or flame no longer scale the sky,

Ere grate full nesses cease to wend,—

Mine their heart way, you their end.