Poems By Arjava

HOW should I smooth Thy way,

Speed Thy feet,

O sojourner of Day ?—

" Doff deceit."

How shall heart's waters lure

Thee to my shrine ?—

" Be stillness and candle-pure

Vigil thine."

Make this poor fitful flame

Bright as of yore,

Shiningly spell Thy Name

Evermore.

Take, take my moteling gem—

Words fain to greet ;

There is no worth in them

Save at Thy feet.