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 | The poems of Madison Cawein |  |
240
THE SOMNAMBULIST
Oaks and a water. By the water—eyes,Ice-green and steadfast as still stars; and hair
Yellow as eyes deep in a she-wolf's lair;
And limbs—like mist the lightning's flicker dyes.
The humped oaks huddle under iron skies;
The dry wind whirls the dead leaves everywhere;
White on the water falls a vulture-glare
Of moon, and black the circling raven flies.
Again the power of this thing hath laid
Compulsion on me: and I seem to hear
A sweet voice calling me beyond the gates
To longed-for love: I come: each forest glade
Seems reaching out white arms to draw me near—
Nearer and nearer to the death that waits.
| The poems of Madison Cawein | |