The perfect piteous beauty of thy face Is like a star the dawning drives away;Mine eyes may never see in the bright day Thy pallid halo, thy supernal grace;But in the night from forth the silent place Thou comest, dim in dreams, as doth a stray Star of the starry flock that in the grey Is seen, and lost, and seen a moment's space.

And as the earth at night turns to a star, Loved long ago, and dearer than the sun, So in the spiritual place afar, At night our souls are mingled and made one, And wait till one night fall, and one dawn rise, That brings no noon too splendid for your eyes.

A SUNSET ON YARROW.

The wind and the day had lived together, They died together, and far away Spoke farewell in the sultry weather, Out of the sunset, over the heather, The dying wind and the dying day.

Far in the south, the summer levin Flushed, a flame in the grey soft air:

We seemed to look on the hills of heaven;You saw within, but to me 'twas given To see your face, as an angel's, there.

Never again, ah surely never Shall we wait and watch, where of old we stood, The low good-night of the hill and the river, The faint light fade, and the wan stars quiver, Twain grown one in the solitude.