Poems By Arjava

NOW all nearer things are vanished ;

Wonted shapes leave empty air :

Thankfully I Find me banished

From the worldly thoroughfare.

Garishness the moon-thrill plunders :

Hosting billows glide to shore—

Waves that break in phantom thunders.

Sands which feel no footprint-score.

Drowsy pinions whitely winging

Smoulder dimly past the strand,

Visionary trance-light bringing

From some strange remoter land.

Past the "me" and past the " other "

Let the questant farer speed,

Wilder grow the foam way smother,

More weird the moon-script he must read.