Poems By Arjava

IT stays so memory-clear,

White house with the city near,

A little house where peace abides.

Pomona in plaster set,

And a Venus older yet;

Each in a spindly tree-clump hides

Limbs that bear no robe :

And evening-splendoured globe

Of the sun who streams with level light

And—like a living eye Open in watchful sky—

Regards our long meal's silent flight

Through the window-glass

Which breaks the rays that pass

And strews a sheaf of glittering beam

About the room within

In steady pools akin

To a tall white candle's gleam ;

There, lapped in the amber of clear light,

The homely table-linen white,

And dark curtains for the night.