Poems By Arjava

ALL space is cribbed, confined,

Alf time abeggar's mite :

There is a bitter rind

No after-depths requite.

Dustwhirl of galaxies.

As a top, gathers and sleeps

In swift tranquillities

Of time-unwearied deeps.

Error to Eden came,

Drew from Eve's mouth

Sweetness that changed to grame

And lonely drouth

And with rinded hardness

First joined to the tree,—

A symbol of this marred-ness,

Strange hope of things to be.