Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/117

Rh With hands, whose tender stroke was burning fire.

The mountain-cone was swathed in sunset flame,

As with a mantle; opalescent gleamed

The dying skies; one white and tremulous star

From light emerging, pale with quivering points,

Hung faint upon the orange edge of night,

Whereon the angel gazed; lovely in him,

The form of beauty full incarnate glowed,

The bloom of all desire: instant he passed.

"O, is the beauty of the evening star

The path of thy departure, spirit fair?"—

The Roamer spoke with syllables unheard.

Horizon-low, the heavenly planet shone,

And sank; far off the sweet light died away.

Night fell, the visionary peak went out;

About the Roamer a great darkness drew;

Lonely, he turned to his dim hostel, sleep,

And laid his head upon the dreamer's stone.