Poems By Arjava

THE cloudless sky has burnished all the hours

Across the hours the figured Afternoon

Has passed, and in her wake the sultry flowers

Of nenuphars have drowsed on the lagoon.

Day's clamorous tide has ebbed far out along

The golden shining sands of western sky ;

Moments of quiet are threaded on a song—

Softer than thistledown the sylphs go by.