Page:An epic of women and other poems (IA epicofwomenother00osha).pdf/34

 It may be, with a strange delight, After an age of gazing through That mirror of things infinite That well nigh burns the veil of blue Drawn down between it and our sight— It may be, with a joy all new, He sought the darkness and the light Of day and night.

It may be, that, upon some wave Which through the incense-laden skies Scarce forced its ripple, there once clave A thin earth-fragrance—in such wise It smote his sense and made him crave For that strange sweet: maybe, likewise, The leaves their subtle perfume gave Up from some grave:

And pleasant did it seem to heap About the heart dim spells that lull Profoundly between death and sleep, To feel mid earthly soothings, dull