Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/25

Rh From the old sources gushing, light divine,

Whose piercing revelation nought obstructs,

Created or imagined or devised,

The masks of mimicry or vestures true,

Earth's massy mould or the dark breast of man.

As one whose fixed soul settles to its hate,

A moment on the world's dismay he looked,

And felt the strength within him knit and lock;

Then slow a myriad glooms expanding swung—

Far off they knew their prey—and, vulture-like,

Their grim and soundless welcome fell on him.

Darkness, and blasts that made the willows white,

Blinded his spirit; moaning were the woods

With tempest, and the heavy-folded storm

Lifted its head and breathed against the stars.

Out o'er the sea he marked the moon grown bright;

On isle and headland and the long gray beach—

His home when home was his—once more he gazed;

How many sweet delights in one look died!

And slanting fell the silver-shafted rain,

Mist on the waters, smoke upon the sand,

And now the loud winds mingled with the sea;

But he was westward gone, his heart in heaven.