Poems By Arjava

HAVE you seen the Evening Primrose open

In, the Dusk,

When the surface din of day is newly broken

And its husk

Is trolled across the sky by homing rook ?

And silence-fall is mingled with the dewfall

And many bats

Are summoning the shadows with their cue-call

From the vats

Where the dawnghosts hang for hours on moon's-ort hook.

A hedgepig threads the path along the streamway

At gambol-gait;

Gnats that hover in the after sunset gleam-play

Mate, remate

Where water-buttercups make white the brook.

One, launched ungainly on dorbeetle fare,

Heavily flies ;

And one, with pinions furled, tweet-tweets an air

In dream-replies—

A bird wing weary, from her dozy nook.

Around the Evening Primrose by the wonstead

The moths now flit;

For it summons with pale fragrance from its gloamstead :

Dusk's candle lit

Spires silence ward. ... " The Primrose, look."