Page:Late lyrics and earlier, with many other verses (IA latelyricsearlie00hardiala).pdf/49



HEN moiling seems at cease In the vague void of night-time, And heaven's wide roomage stormless Between the dusk and light-time, And fear at last is formless, We call the allurement Peace.

Peace, this hid riot, Change, This revel of quick-cued mumming, This never truly being, This evermore becoming, This spinner's wheel onfleeing Outside perception's range.

1917.