Poems By Arjava

AS tyrant eats the selfhood of his slave,

As captive strikes no root in loneliness,

Must draughtsman ship avoid all figure save

These two,—the centre less circumference,

And that self-weariness of Present whence

Nor silvern hopes nor pure gold memories gave

Access to one, friend-welcome, fetterless ?

High dreams have limned the triptych, scored the stave.

Now stave is set with ampler harmonies ;

Ulysses has resailed from Ithaca,—

To fairest apples of Hesperides,

Beyond our drossed horizons, traveller ;

And Argo's prow is aimed for Colchis Fleece :

Foam-plash of silver. . . .courage.. shimmering peace.