The Star

Douglas Ainslie - 1865-1948
You move upon the earth as one
     New lit from off the car
That God Apollo guides, the Sun—
     And in your hand, a Star;
For in your perfect form unite
     Divided hemispheres,
The joy of day, the bliss of night—
     Sun raptures, moonlit tears.
These words of love, I tell them o’er,
     As monk his rosary—
We know the visions we adore
     Are bright Reality.
 

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Love Comes Quietly

Love comes quietly,
finally, drops
about me, on me,
in the old ways.

What did I know
thinking myself
able to go
alone all the way.