Poems By Arjava

TIME with winged sandals hastens on his way

Then let the Morning's soft stealth of you :—

But the eye's of Night, now rinsed with dew

Hold dearer hoard, out of the scope of day.

The brief bright noontide of a moment dims

To evening, the last after-image fades,

When, low to East, across deleting shades

A moonrise shapes anew those dazzling limbs.

How came the rhythmed rapture of the sea

As power within such stalwart limbs that cleave

The yielding waters ? How, athwart their heave,

White arm outstretched, fingers shapely and long ?

Then the firm stroke follows : how ripplingly

Goes dance of the thaws in a back supple and strong.