Albert Durrant Watson

The Comet

SPECTRAL, mysterious, flame-like thing
  Cleaving the western night,
Waking from chrysalis-dream to fling
Out of thy spirit's long chastening
  Far-flashing streams of light,

Tell us thy thought of the things that are;
  How doth the morning sing?
What hast thou seen in the worlds afar?
Tell us thy dream, O thou silvery star,
  Bird with the white-flame wing.

What though the glow of thy fading ray
  Dim and elusive seem,
Constant thou art to the sun's bright sway
Faithful and true in thy tireless way,
  True in thy spectral gleam.

Rising anew from thine ancient pyre,
  Vapour and dust thy frame,
Still art thou Psyche, the soul's desire,
Wingless, save when from reefs of fire
  Mounting in shaft of flame.