Poem by Trumbull Stickney

* * *

THEY lived enamoured of the lovely moon,
The dawn and twilight on their gentle lake.
Then Passion marvellously born did shake
Their breast and drave them into the mid-noon.
Their lives did shrink to one desire, and soon
They rose fire-eyed to follow in the wake
Of one eternal thought,--when sudden brake
Their hearts. They died, in miserable swoon.
Of all their agony not a sound was heard.
The glory of the Earth is more than they.
She asks her lovely image of the day:
A flower grows, a million boughs are green,
And over moving ocean-waves the bird
Chases his shadow and is no more seen.

1. And, the Last Day Being Come
2. I Hear a River thro' the Valley Wander
3. Leave Him Now Quiet by the Way
4. Be Still. The Hanging Gardens Were a Dream
5. Dramatic Fragment

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