Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/106

And pauses not. Thy moment live!" He ceased
And brightly leaped the fountain of his blood
Recurrent; joy revisited his eyes,
And beauty on his senses stole anew,
Not now ideal, the pattern of the gods,
But earthly, with the dyes and stains of time.
A deeper bloom, a more mysterious glow
Burned in the hollows of the wilderness
In whose rich glooms he sank; in that wide land
A loftier melancholy ruled,—it lay
So beautiful, so desolate, so alone,
Like a deserted paradise, grown wild.
Noon-weirdness came out of the mounded hills;
A glamour lay on the dim roll of plains,
Whose far horizons he should never cross;
And endless seemed the reaches of the waste,
Calling him ever to its unknown heart
Afar; and on his soul prophetic fell
The shadow of a yonder world, not ours,
Where man is not, nor any human thought,
Nor norm of truth or beauty or delight,
But the great globe, untenanted of mind,
Pure nature, rolls in the ethereal void;
And deeper glowed the dye in the dark rose,
And more fantastic now the orchid sprawled

Its errant beauty, and on wandering thoughts