Remembrance

Remembering thee, I search out these faint flowers Of rhyme; remembering thee, this crescent night While o’er the buds and o’er the grass-blades, bright And clinging with the dew of odorous showers, With purple sandals sweep the grave-eyed hours— Remembering thee, I muse, while fades in flight The honey-hearted leisure of the light, And hanging o’er the hush of willow bowers,

Of ceaseless loneliness and high regret Sings the young wistful spirit of a star Enfolden in the shadows of the East, And silence holding revelry and feast; Just now my soul rose up and touched it, far In space, made equal with a sigh, we met.