HE sudden sunbeams slant between the
Like solid bars of silver. moonlight kissed,
And strike the supine shadows where they
Stretched sleeping; while a timid, new-born
Stirs through the grasses, petulant — her
Half-blinded by the clinging scarves of mist:
Her robes, that tangled through the grasses twist,
Weave as she moves sweet whispered melodies.
O may it be a morn like this, when
From a dark world beneath my soul shall
Through the wet grasses of a purple plain,
Still stretching broader in the cool, grey
Of morning twllight: then my soul shall
That life and love are lost — and found again!
