Poems By Arjava

WHEN thought is nigh asleep at wane of day

These words come wheeling round again un bid

—Disastrous answer hath up risen to say :—

" He is as real as dream in slumber hid ;

His brightness never took the dusty way

Of waking life : his limbs un burthened

By all this dour dependency of clay

Live in Light's deathless dawn unblemished."

Beyond the foam-fringe of the twilight sea

On rainbow-coralled isle he surely dwells,

A prince among swift lords of Faerie

Who race upon wide sands of tireless glee,

Or lure sun-splendoured birds with laughing spells

And twine their amaranth wreaths of ecstasy.