Page:New poems and variant readings, Stevenson, 1918.djvu/65

Rh And waited, till before me she dropped dead.

O golden bird in these dove-coloured skies

How long I sought, how long with wearied eyes

I sought, O bird, the promise of thy flight!

And now the morn has dawned, the morn has died,

The day has come and gone; and once more night

About my lone life settles, wild and wide.

VOLUNTARY

in the quiet eve

My thankful eyes receive

The quiet light.

I see the trees stand fair

Against the faded air,

And star by star prepare

The perfect night.

And in my bosom, lo!

Content and quiet grow

Toward perfect peace.

And now when day is done,

Brief day of wind and sun,

The pure stars, one by one,

Their troop increase.