Page:The poems of Richard Watson Gilder, Gilder, 1908.djvu/289

Rh But I remember better than all else

One night he told of in that land of fright—

The love-songs swarthy men sang to their herds

On the high plains to keep the beasts in heart;

Piercing the silence one keen tenor voice

Singing "Ai nostri monti" clear and high:

Instead of stakes and fences round about

They circled them with music in the night.

ILLUSION

A SONG OF THE ROAD

, speed, speed

Through the day, through the night!

Cities are beads on the thread of our flight;

Peaks melt in peaks and are lost in the air.

Speed, speed, speed—

But, O, the dearth of it,

Thou not there!