Page:Color (1925 Cullen).pdf/18

The dream shall elude
 The dreamer's clasp,
And only its hood
 Shall comfort his grasp.

A little while,
 Too brief at most,
And even my smile
 Will be a ghost.
A little space,
 A Finger's crook,
And who shall trace
 The path I took?

Who shall declare
 My whereabouts;
Say if in the air
 My being shouts
Along light ways,
 Or if in the sea,
Or deep earth stays
 The germ of me?

Ah, none knows, none,
 Save (but too well)
The Cryptic One
 Who will not tell.

xiv