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Under the moon|% |
No sunset, but a grey, great, struggling sky|% |
Full of strong silence. In green cloisters throng|% |
Shy nuns of evening, telling beads of song|% |
Swallows, like winged prayers, soar steadily by|% |
Hallowing twilight. From the faint and high|% |
Night waves her misting censers, and along|% |
The world, the singing rises into strong|% |
Pure peace. Now earth and heaven twain raptures die|% |
I knew your presence in the twilight mist|% |
In the world-filling darkness, in the rain|% |
That spoke in whispers,—for the world was kissed|% |
And laid in sleep.—These wild, sweet, perfect things|% |
Are little miracles your memory sings|% |
Till heart on heart makes us one music again|% |
I miss you in the dawn, of gradual flowering lights|% |
And prayer-pale stars that pass the drowsing-incensed hymns|% |
When early earth through all her greenly-sleeping limbs|% |
Puts on the exquisite gold day. The Christlike sun|% |
Moves to his resurrection in rejoicing heights|% |
And priestly hills partake of morning one by one|% |
I look for you when comes the beautiful blue moon|% |
When earth is as a queen whose soul hath taken flight|% |
Embalmed in the entire strength of perfect light|% |
The immense heaven, a vase of utter silence, towers|% |
Vastward, beyond where dreams the unawakened moon|% |
Holding infinity and her invisible flowers|% |
The hours drum up to sunset; now the west awakes|% |
Toarmies. Suddenly across the firmament|% |
Couriers of light spur forth their captain’s high intent|% |
Now devout legions, mustering heavenward without cease|% |
Face the hushed hordes of night. A trumpet-radiance breaks—|% |
I see the young ranked glories marching down to peace|% |
Twilight, and great with silence of beginning dreams|% |
Yet haunted still by broken hosts in brave retreat|% |
Of blameless cohorts whelmed into sublime defeat|% |
Which, darkly under world their ragged spears withdraw|% |
Shall rise to fire the night in far victorious gleams|% |
When over the towered east leaps the white sword of dawn|% |
So do I want you, when in heavenly spaces God|% |
Slips His white wonders on the silent trail of time|% |
When out the smoking eve begins to slowly climb|% |
A great, red, fearsome flower, about whose fatal face|% |
The faint moths gather and die—till withered pale, she nod|% |
Far in the west, and morn the little dreams shall chase|% |
Now is the world at peace; Heaven unto her heart|% |
Holdeth sublimities afar from touch of day|% |
Presents divine the fates shall never take away|% |
Unfaded memories, immortal ponderings|% |
The little knock of prayer whereby are thrown apart|% |
Those inner doors which lead into all priceless things|% |
O night, mother divine of poetry and stars|% |
O thou whose patient face is nearest unto God|% |
Thou of chaste feet with beautiful oblivion shod|% |
Having the dear, swift-winged dark within thy hands,—|% |
The prison invisible of souls thy peace unbars|% |
And love and I rise up into unspoken lands|% |
Where is my love! I cried|% |
Life, I bid thee to say|% |
Who hath taken away|% |
Her who sate at my side|% |
For whiter is she than any pearl|% |
But the nights be lonely and dread|% |
Life, what hast thou done with thy loveliest girl|% |
Look to the wood, She said|% |
For the white bird, O, the white bird|% |
Sleep he toucheth the white bird|% |
The white bird and the red|% |
Give me her eyes! I cried|% |
For I would kiss them asleep|% |
That are so cool and deep|% |
So soft and wondering wide|% |
Bluer are they than ponds of dream|% |
But the skies be grey o’erhead|% |
Life, where may the eyes of thy fairest gleam|% |
Look to the field, She said|% |
For the blue flower, O, the blue flower|% |
Night he stilleth the blue flower|% |
The blue flower and the red|% |
O, for her hair! I cried|% |
Her young and wonderful hair|% |
To hide my sorrow there|% |
In the heart ofa shining tide|% |
For her hair is more yellow than Heaven’s dawn|% |
But the world’s last leaves be shed|% |
Life, where is thy youngest angel gone|% |
Look to the west, She said|% |
For the yellow light, O, the yellow light|% |
Death he moweth the yellow light|% |
The yellow light and the red|% |
whereas by dark really released,the modern |% flame of her indomitable body |% uses a careful fierceness. Her lips study |% my head gripping for a decision:burn |% the terrific fingers which grapple and joke |% on my passionate anatomy |% oh yes! Large legs pinch,toes choke— |% hair-thin strands of magic agony |% ....by day this lady in her limousine |% oozes in fashionable traffic,just |% a halfsmile (for society’s sweet sake) |% in the not too frail lips almost discussed |% between her and ourselves a nearly-opaque |% perfume disinterestedly obscene |% |
Not for the naked make I this my prayer|% |
That up and down the streets of life do go|% |
Having, save rags, no pleasant thing to wear|% |
Albeit the timid ways have put on snow|% |
Against such wind as only God can blow|% |
Well ’ware art Thou that these have no redress|% |
For always in Thine eyes is all distress|% |
Of bodies that without due raiment be|% |
But are there Souls in winter garmentless|% |
Subsets and Splits