THE MEMORY OF EARTH

In the wet dusk silver-sweet, Down the violet scented ways, As I moved with quiet feet I was met by mighty days. On the hedge the hanging dew Glassed the eve and stars and skies; While I gazed a madness grew Into thundered battle cries. Where the hawthorn glimmered white, Flashed the spear and fell the stroke— Ah, what faces pale and bright Where the dazzling battle broke! There a hero-hearted queen With young beauty lit the van. Gone! the darkness flowed between All the ancient wars of man. While I paced the valley's gloom Where the rabbits pattered near, Shone a temple and a tomb With the legend carven clear: 'Time put by a myriad fates That her day might dawn in glory. Death made wide a million gates So to close her tragic story.'

When the breath of twilight blows to flame the misty skies, All its vaporous sapphire, violet glow, and silver gleam, With their magic flood me through the gateway of the eyes; I am one with the twilight's dream. When the trees and skies and fields are one in dusky mood, Every heart of man is wrapt within the mother's breast: Full of peace and sleep and dreams in the vasty quietude, I am one with their hearts at rest. From our immemorial joys of hearth and home and love Strayed away along the margin of the unknown tide, All its reach of soundless calm can thrill me far above Word or touch from the lips beside. Aye, and deep and deep and deeper let me drink and draw, From the olden fountain more than light or peace or dream, Such primeval being as o'erfills the heart with awe, Growing one with its silent stream.