Poems By Arjava

ALL the sky is rife with stars ;

Daylight's ebbed and come to naught:

Nethering moon -with tilted gars,

One gold horn on earth-rim caught.

Silence thins the teeming space,

High hush treads the huddled earth :

Deep they delved the grave of place,

Echoed stillness into birth,

Bade the white-gold lunar fire

Rend the gloom of nether air,

Quell each clamour of desire.

Drench with Light the shadow lair.