Page:Eight Harvard Poets.djvu/97

 CROSS the taut string of my yearning soul Pass fingers of all fleet and beautiful things: Comings of dawn and moonlight glimmerings, Mid-summer hush and Sabbath bells that toll Over broad fields, a sound of thrushes' wings Near sunset hour, a girl with lips apart, Wonder and laughter, — these have touched my heart And left their music lingering on its strings.

At twilight of some gray, eventual year, A few late friends will turn, with trembling breath, From the raw mound of earth that hides my face. &hellip; Yet I shall still find beauty, even in death, And some lone traveller of the night will hear An echo of music in that quiet place. 86