Poems By Arjava

WHETHER by glare of tropic noon,

Or under the sprinkled stars,

Or when the high hush of the moon

Splinters the waves with silver gars,

Or while the first hours flush the foam

Or the sun sets in a wash of gold,

Swift-glimpsed by seafowl as they roam

What new leaf lurks whom waves enfold

This was the strangeness of that day—

The shrunken tides lay bare

Sharp ridge where goes withstood the sway

Of waves, where feet of wildfowl fare.