Poems By Arjava

THIS was the country that I did not know.

The joy that has no shadow-throw.

A lore which worldlings worthless deem,

That love our thralled hearts fear to show,

That power no helmed hosts bestow

—Of freedomed soul the source and stream.

Here was day's imprisoned beam.

The dying sunset's fadeless gleam,

And prayer of all green things that grow ;

This the Spring's eternal theme—

Flowering trees in silver dream

And visioned globes of gold hood glow.