Poems (Dudley)/Incense
INCENSE.
PEACEFUL and blue bends the dome of the skies, Green are these curtains of leaves;Soft from your censer the filmy clouds rise Up to the Orient eaves;
Mystic and sweet are the odors they breathe, Bathing my spirit in balm;Tremulous mist from the dim, shoreless seas, Sleeps 1n the zone of your calm.
Lulled by its perfume and lost in its cloud, Vainly I grope through your voice;Labyrinths deeper its cadences shroud,— Give me your hand, to rejoice.
August 1st.
