Poems
THEME/S
When earth's dream-colours are gone,
And you have kept the vow,
Silently I shall come and stud
The blue stars on your brow.
Through the temple will run a murmur,
A noise of waters that roll,
And in the clean white air a word
Will move across your soul.
The shining fires will weave for you
A raiment of golden skill;
For you have burnt your thought out
On the altar of my Will.
In the shimmering hour of morning
When beauty is over the land,
I'll keep my word and quietly come,
And you will understand.
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