Silent Gifts
Alone! — And yet some silent gifts are won.
Even for the loneliest gaze the stars are fair,
And sweet the voiceless heights of moonlit air
Unfound of day, forgotten of the sun.
But ah! the sadness, — to be known of none
Save of the cold-lipped gruesome bride, Despair!
Alone to battle and alone to bear;
Ever alone, — till life and death be done.
The poet hath the roses and the sky,
But not the sympathy his spirit seeks.
Is it a soul-delivering thing to lie
Amid sea-poppies by grey winding creeks
Or on the hills whereo'er the white mists fly, —
Waiting the gold-winged word no woman speaks?
Even for the loneliest gaze the stars are fair,
And sweet the voiceless heights of moonlit air
Unfound of day, forgotten of the sun.
But ah! the sadness, — to be known of none
Save of the cold-lipped gruesome bride, Despair!
Alone to battle and alone to bear;
Ever alone, — till life and death be done.
The poet hath the roses and the sky,
But not the sympathy his spirit seeks.
Is it a soul-delivering thing to lie
Amid sea-poppies by grey winding creeks
Or on the hills whereo'er the white mists fly, —
Waiting the gold-winged word no woman speaks?
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