Page:Selected Poems (Huxley).djvu/58



There is a sadness in the street, And sullenly the folk I meet Droop their heads as they walk along, Without a smile, without a song. A mist of cold and muffling grey Falls, fold by fold, on another day That dies unwept. But suddenly, Under a tunnelled arch I see On flank and haunch the chestnut gleam Of horses in a lamplit steam; And the dead world moves for me once more With beauty for its living core.

THE MIRROR.

Slow-moving moonlight once did pass Across the dreaming looking-glass, Where, sunk inviolably deep, Old secrets unforgotten sleep Of beauties unforgettable.