The waves have lost their silvery note,
   White birds of dreams o’er the dim plain start,
       Through the mist is gliding a phantom bark––
          What made love open its eyes and part!

Where are the sweet names we whispered low,
    Were they carried away by the breeze?
        The vain words which from our lips did flow
           Are they buried forever in dismal seas?
             And the kisses that rained on your face
                Has nothing remained of their ardent glow?
                   The night holds nothing but a cold embrace,
                      The sun of our love sank low.

Only the note of the seabird rings
   Through the dim realm of night and mist,
      Not a breath of our past love clings
         To this sea of faded amethyst,
           Even the wind pauses in space
              And refuses to caress our lips;
                 Alas, our love was of fleeting pace
                    Like the visions of seafaring ships.

Like the flash of a meteor’s flight,––
  Know we whither its glow has flown;
      Its sped across heaven with radiant light
       And vanished in worlds unknown––
          So the sweet hours have passed away
            Like flowers that on the sand-dunes grow,
               Like waves that die in a wreath of spray
                  When bitter winds over the shoreland blow.

The waves have lost their silvery note,
   White birds of dreams o’er the dim plain start,
       Through the mist is gliding a phantom bark––
          What made love open its eyes and part!

Where are the sweet names we whispered low,
    Were they carried away by the breeze?
        The vain words which from our lips did flow
           Are they buried forever in dismal seas?
             And the kisses that rained on your face
                Has nothing remained of their ardent glow?
                   The night holds nothing but a cold embrace,
                      The sun of our love sank low.

Only the note of the seabird rings
   Through the dim realm of night and mist,
      Not a breath of our past love clings
         To this sea of faded amethyst,
           Even the wind pauses in space
              And refuses to caress our lips;
                 Alas, our love was of fleeting pace
                    Like the visions of seafaring ships.

Like the flash of a meteor’s flight,––
  Know we whither its glow has flown;
      Its sped across heaven with radiant light
       And vanished in worlds unknown––
          So the sweet hours have passed away
            Like flowers that on the sand-dunes grow,
               Like waves that die in a wreath of spray
                  When bitter winds over the shoreland blow.

Stars of the sky come out on the earth, 
Out of the void of the sky, 
Out of the clouds, 
Of the mantle-clouds of the sky, 
Come, 
Come for the moon is pale. 
Pallid and spectral
As the night, 
Dead as the clouds of the night. 

Wake from the woodland, winds, 
Wanton and wail on the sea, 
Move where the billows, rent and restless, 
Are mute. 

Rise from the clod and sea and air, 
Arise, O forms that are lifeless, inert, 
Start as by impulse
And tremble to being. 

Now the light of the stars and the spheres, 
Now the breath of the wind
And the rush of the watery waste, 
Are motionless, 
Immobile, 
Dead. 

Only the tumult, 
The fire and the flame in the heart are here
Within, the beat and the pulse
Of long agitations
Perturb. 
Longings for the loved ones lost, 
Loved as the waves of the wind, 
Loved as the stars of the night, 
Lost as the wind and the night, 
Lost as the waves and the spheres. 
Without, 
In the cold, lightless silence of night. 
All is mute, 
All is dead. 

Looking up at the stars, I know quite well
That, for all they care, I can go to hell,
But on earth indifference is the least
We have to dread from man or beast.

How should we like it were stars to burn
With a passion for us we could not return?
If equal affection cannot be,
Let the more loving one be me.

Admirer as I think I am
Of stars that do not give a damn,
I cannot, now I see them, say
I missed one terribly all day.

Were all stars to disappear or die,
I should learn to look at an empty sky
And feel its total dark sublime,
Though this might take me a little time.

To-night the west o’er-brims with warmest dyes;
Its chalice overflows
With pools of purple colouring the skies,
Aflood with gold and rose;
And some hot soul seems throbbing close to mine,
As sinks the sun within that world of wine.

I seem to hear a bar of music float
And swoon into the west;
My ear can scarcely catch the whispered note,
But something in my breast
Blends with that strain, till both accord in one,
As cloud and colour blend at set of sun.

And twilight comes with grey and restful eyes,
As ashes follow flame.
But O! I heard a voice from those rich skies
Call tenderly my name;
It was as if some priestly fingers stole
In benedictions o’er my lonely soul.

I know not why, but all my being longed
And leapt at that sweet call;
My heart outreached its arms, all passion thronged
And beat against Fate’s wall,
Crying in utter homesickness to be
Near to a heart that loves and leans to me.

I cannot live with You – 
It would be Life – 
And Life is over there – 
Behind the Shelf

The Sexton keeps the Key to – 
Putting up
Our Life – His Porcelain – 
Like a Cup – 

Discarded of the Housewife – 
Quaint – or Broke – 
A newer Sevres pleases – 
Old Ones crack – 

I could not die – with You – 
For One must wait
To shut the Other’s Gaze down – 
You – could not – 

And I – could I stand by
And see You – freeze – 
Without my Right of Frost – 
Death's privilege?

Nor could I rise – with You – 
Because Your Face
Would put out Jesus’ – 
That New Grace

Glow plain – and foreign
On my homesick Eye – 
Except that You than He
Shone closer by – 

They’d judge Us – How – 
For You – served Heaven – You know,
Or sought to – 
I could not – 

Because You saturated Sight – 
And I had no more Eyes
For sordid excellence
As Paradise

And were You lost, I would be – 
Though My Name
Rang loudest
On the Heavenly fame – 

And were You – saved – 
And I – condemned to be
Where You were not – 
That self – were Hell to Me – 

So We must meet apart – 
You there – I – here – 
With just the Door ajar
That Oceans are – and Prayer – 
And that White Sustenance – 
Despair –