 | Poems and Sonnets |  |
23
THE SAME AS EVER.
Under the dim blue Northern skies she waitsThe same as ever, days are but a dream,
At night again the green witch-glances gleam
As fierce as ever through my fancy's gates,
And shifted is the circle of the fates,
Backward my strong imaginations stream,
Present in living force past figures seem,
And blotted out my memory's evil dates;
And she is waiting, and that strange pale crown
Of turquoises and pearls is on her brow,
White clouds—blue spaces—never shining now
Across the sky, but in that long-lost town
I am present, and again am kneeling down
To that Witch-Lady my sole self to vow!
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