Page:Veil other poems .djvu/40

 ow shall I know when the end of things is coming? The dark swifts flitting, the drone-bees humming; The fly on the window-pane bedazedly strumming; Ice on the waterbrooks their clear chimes dumbing— How shall I know that the end of things is coming?

The stars in their stations will shine glamorous in the black; Emptiness, as ever, haunt the great Star Sack; And Venus, proud and beautiful, go down to meet the day, Pale in phosphorescence of the green sea spray— How shall I know that the end of things is coming? Head asleep on pillow; the peewits at their crying; A strange face in dreams to my rapt phantasma sighing; Silence beyond words of anguished passion; Or stammering an answer in the tongue's cold fashion— How shall I know that the end of things is coming?