Page:Poetry, a magazine of verse, Volume 1 (October 1912-March 1913).djvu/197



HE autumn dusk, not yearly but eternal, Is haunted by thy voice. Who turns his way far from the valleys vernal And by dark choice Disturbs those heights which from the low-lying land Rise sheerly toward the heavens, with thee may stand And hear thy thunders down the mountains strown. But none save him who shares thy prophet-sight Shall thence behold what cosmic dawning-light Met thy soul's own.

unmelodious singing Must build thy praises now.