Page:The Yellow Book - 13.djvu/212



By Douglas Ainslie

the poet of grey slips away, The poor singer from over the strait, Who sat by the Paris highway,
 * Whose life was the laughter of fate;

The laughter of fate, but the woe
 * Of the gods and the mortals who heard

The mystical modes as they flow—
 * Broken phrase, riven lute, broken word,

Broken up as the attar is crushed
 * By the steel of the mercantile weights

From the soul of the roses that blushed
 * Through the scroll of Elysian gates.

Rh