Poems By Arjava

  Poems


The Valley Of The Fleece


A WINDLESS eve in a quiet coomb ;

Rock-roseyellow and golden broom.

Sandmartins wheel aloft

Watching day's goblet quaffed

By the priestess, Venus-adorned, rising from eastern tomb.


A dream-laden wind from the sky escorts

The starry ships of the Argonauts.

Sandmartinstirs in the hole ;

Peeps out one guardian troll—

" Will they carry our golden fleece back to the day-break ports?"

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