Page:The book of American negro poetry.djvu/96

44 I pray for faith to the noble spirit of Space, I sound the cosmic depths for the measure of glory Which will bring to this earth the imperishable race Of whom Beauty dreamed in the soul-toned story The Prophets told.

Silence and love and deep wonder of stars Dust-silver the heavens from west to east, From south to north, and in a maze of bars Invisible I wander far from the feast As night grows old.

Half blind is my vision I know to the truth, My ears are half deaf to the voice of the tear That touches the silences as Autumn's ruth Steals thru the dusks of each returning year A goodly friend.

The Autumn, then Winter and wintertime's grief! But the weight of the snow is the glistening gift Which loving brings to the rose and its leaf, For the days of the roses glow in the drift And never end.

The moon has come. Wan and pallid is she. The spell of half memories, the touch of half tears, And the wounds of worn passions she brings to me With all the tremor of the far-off years And their mad wrong.