University of Virginia Library


67

HOMEWARDS.

Comrade, the sun is low;
Now doth the heavy West
Burn for leagues like a smouldering coal with a smoky glow;
Oh, the day pants for rest!
Higher, the liquid sky
Green as an ice-fed stream,
Deepens to infinite blue, and softly inveigles the shy
Stars from their day-long dream.
Out of the wayside flower
Ebbs the colour away:
Crocuses delicate, pink, that lay like a starry shower,
Dapple the dusk with grey.
Blackness gathers apace
Under the shrouded pines
Over the tumbled stones that stream from the mountain's face
Slowly the shade declines.
Only the dying fires,
Flashes of farewell light,
Flush in the old stone crags, and flame in the rocky spires;
Suddenly falls the night.

68

Comrade, the dark is come;
Drop to the welcoming vale,
Steer to the winding lights and the city's generous hum;
Then when the dawn is pale,
Quitting the kindly street,
Leaving the fireside bright,
Laugh with the parting guest and smile on the child we meet,
Free as the fleeting light;
We too speed from the west,
Speed with the rushing earth;
Still the unsatisfied heart and still the imperious quest
Mock at our devious mirth.
Hush, for the world must sleep:
Passion and heat are done:
Who would the pulsing fervours of clamorous noontide keep
Till he fade in the sun?
Twilight, pitiful, sad,
Night, so chilly and stern
Breathe your vastness upon us, and make us brave and glad;
Better to brood than burn.
Suns in the heart of the night
Flame like a restless spark:
Only the silence waits till the aching gaps unite
Into the infinite dark.
Coire, 1891.