Poems By Arjava

ON thy smooth brow what laurels shall descend

For life's enhancing to the Perfect Way ?

In the silver road may our linked footsteps blend

What width soever have sundered feet of clay.

When leagues of air have stilled thy voice to rest,

When balks of earth uprear between and veil

The gesture of thy welcome, swift the test

That souls have scope upon far other scale.

The music of thy speaking then shall weave

Its rhythm through my faring on the road :

Nor in the past thy welcomes shall be found,

But made a victor's beacon they shall cleave

Through the false shadow and begleam the ground ;

Nor one goal gained but thanks to thee be owed.