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SKY FANTASY
When the rain that came at midnight, in a sheet of level grey,Has hid the stars and drowned the moon that rose but yesterday:Then I know the wily Arab in his desert of the airShuts his little bride securely in the tent of camel's hair.
He will steal a star to light it, in his thievish Arab way;He will string the planets for her neck, and on the winds will playA melody of joy and war, of ancient loves and hates;Pluck from the silver tray of Years, the fairest of her dates!
And if to-morrow break all blue, with never cloud to dimThe lacquer bowl of Heaven, oh, "You need not look for him."For somewhere over earth's pale rim beyond the world he goesTo a Paradise more perfect than the Unbeliever knows!
