 | Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) |  |
203
THE VALLEY OF WHITE POPPIES
Between the grey pastures and the dark wood
A valley of white poppies is lit by the low moon:
It is the grave of dreams, a holy rood.
A valley of white poppies is lit by the low moon:
It is the grave of dreams, a holy rood.
It is quiet there: no wind doth ever fall.
Long, long ago a wind sang once a heartsweet rune.
Now the white poppies grow, silent and tall.
Long, long ago a wind sang once a heartsweet rune.
Now the white poppies grow, silent and tall.
A white bird floats there like a drifting leaf:
It feeds upon faint sweet hopes and perishing dreams
And the still breath of unremembering grief.
It feeds upon faint sweet hopes and perishing dreams
And the still breath of unremembering grief.
And as a silent leaf the white bird passes,
Winnowing the dusk by dim forgetful streams.
I am alone now among the silent grasses.
Winnowing the dusk by dim forgetful streams.
I am alone now among the silent grasses.
| Poems and Dramas by "Fiona MacLeod" (William Sharp) | |