Works

This Poem, Dedicated to His Mother.


To twilight heads comes Death as comes a friend,
As with the gentle fading of the year
Fades rose, folds leaf, falls fruit, and to their end...

Unaware of its terror,
And but half aware
Of the world's beauty near her -
Of sunlight on the stones,
And trembling birds in the square,
Lightly went Madala -
A rose blown suddenly...

1.

I am one of the wind's stories,
I am a fancy of the rain, -
A memory of the high noon's glories,
The hint the sunset had of pain.

2.

They dreamed me as they dreamed all other;...

I am growing old: I have kept youth too long,
But I dare not let them know it now.
I have done the heart of youth a grievous wrong,
Danced it to dust and drugged it with the rose,...

Is it not a wonderful thing to be able to force an astonished plant to bear rare flowers which are foreign to it ... and to obtain a marvellous result from sap which, left to itself, would have produced corollas without beauty?...