THE STARS are pale.
Old is the Night, his case is grievous,
His strength doth fail.
Shyly the silver-hatted mushrooms make
Soft entrance through,
And undelivered lovers, half awake,
Hear noises in the dew
Let your song be delicate.
The skies declare
No war — the eyes of lovers
YOU, AND YELLOW AIR by John Shaw Neilson
I dream of an old kissing-time
And the flowered follies there;
In the dim place of cherry-trees,
Fear it has faded and the night:
The bells all peal the hour of nine:
The schoolgirls hastening through the light
Touch the unknowable Divine.
I would be dismal with all the fine pearls of the crown of a king;
But I can talk plainly to you, you little blue flower of the Spring!
ALL singers have shadows
That follow like fears,
But I know a singer
Who never saw tears;
Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
“Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?”
Ragged, unheeded, stooping, meanly shod,
The poor pass to the pond: not far away
The spires go up to God.