Poems By Arjava

LOVELY the lily's rays

For the pure of soul,

White silence of their days,

And whispered goal.

And the golden apples hang

Blown by the breeze,

Their gainers loosed from pang,—

Hesperides !

Yet neither the white nor the gold

I lief would sing,

Though the harvest of truth they hold

And the white peace bring.

Eros with burning plumes—

No other prize—

On Thy altar rewards and dooms

I sacrifice.

Rose-Crowned, Inscrutable

Thy faint smile wins

High deeds from a world so full

Of cluttered sins.

Eldest of gods, I pray

Thy alchemy :

Golden my dross ; and slay

Mortality.

Calm eyes empty of strife,

Of vileness' sway;

No withering mars Thy life,

No dawn is grey.