 | Poems |  |
II. THE ARTIST'S WAITING
Tender impatience quickening, quickening;O heart within me that art grown a sea,
How vexed with longing all thy live waves be,
How broken with desire! A ceaseless wing
O'er every green sea-ridge goes fluttering,
And there are cries and long reluctancy,
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Fain for the coming of some perfect Thing.
Emerge white Wonder, be thou born a Queen!
Let shine the splendours of thy loveliness
From the brow's radiance to the equal poise
Of calm, victorious feet; let thy serene
Command go forth; replenish with strong joys
The spaces and the sea-deeps measureless.
| Poems | |