ON EYLESBARROW

Hither, at set of autumn sun, Each golden child of Hesper flies From gardens of old deities, Where Zeus the maiden Hera won. Their footsteps kindled stone by stone The time-worn barrow, where it stands, Above wide, valley border-lands, Austere and imminent and alone. Their fingers smoothed each granite frown And blossomed where no flow’r may live, And gave, what never flow’r can give, Of living flame-light for a crown. And from their flickering kirtles fell A gleam upon its stubborn ways, To touch their nakedness with rays Of amaranth and asphodel. O Hesperids, remember him Whose sun is westering to the change, Along uneven paths and strange, By shadowed aisles and frontiers dim. Flash but one token, pure and rare, From the abundance of your grace, For many a storm hath stripped the face Of this, his life, and left it bare. Dance but one measure in a heart Sad and unprofitably proud, Ere to your chariots of cloud Ye leap again and so depart.