"
And when
yourself
you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
Stefan George - Selections from His Works and Others
A moment's wandering
Whom maketh tired?
For me too long though,
Pain maketh tired.
Hands extended:
Thou heedest not?
Sighs ascended,
Thou gleanest not?
Along my pathway
Thou goest not.
Tears are falling:
Thou knowest not.
?WINDOWS where I gazed with you
At eve upon the landscape once
Are now illumed with other lights.
From the gate the path still runs,
Where without looking back you stood,
Then swerved towards the valley down.
By the turning, once again,
The moon thniwfeh up your visage wan,
And yet too late to call you back.
Darkness--silence--rigid air
As whilome sink around your house.
Yea every joy you took with you.
?Whene'er I wander by thine house,
I send a silent prayer on high
As if thou layest dead within.
WHENE'ER I stand upon your bridge,
A whisper tells me from the stream,
"Here rose your light within me once.
"
And when
yourself
you come my way
My vision does not cleave, but turns
Without a shiver or salute.
And only inwardly inclines,
As we are wont if there draws nigh
A stranger on his final round.
W. U. DAHOAN, LTD., BKITUFIELD, E.C.
