Page:Poet Lore, At the Chasm, volume 24, 1913.pdf/28



Do you know it? 'Tis a story That the mothers tell their children On the cold, sad nights of winter, While the wind, that vagrant, whistles In the streets his doleful ballads, And light hands unseen are drumming Upon all the clouded windows. Do you wish to hear the story? Then into mine eyes gaze deeply, And within your orbs of onyx Let those sands of diamond sparkle That within your eyes are kindled When you wish my sight to dazzle. O my verses, birds ungrateful! Start again upon your journey, For my spring once more is with me. Now spread wide your wings of azure, Build your nests now in my poems!

Long ago, in times departed, Long, long since, in distant ages, That old church, to ruin falling, Seemed to gazers at a distance A caprice of mists and vapors Hanging from the tall trees' branches. From afar, the mass looked formless; Coming nearer, clear to vision Domes and towers displayed their outlines; Architraves, a ruined portal, Griffins, monsters and archangels, And, in wondrous equilibrium