I

MIRDATH THE BEAUTIFUL


"And I cannot touch her face
And I cannot touch her hair,
And I kneel to empty shadows--
Just memories of her grace;
And her voice sings in the winds
And in the sobs of dawn
And among the flowers at night
And from the brooks at sunrise
And from the sea at sunset,
And I answer with vain callings ..."

It was the Joy of the Sunset that brought us to speech. I was gone a
long way from my house, walking lonely-wise, and stopping often that I
view the piling upward of the Battlements of Evening, and to feel the
dear and strange gathering of the Dusk come over all the world about me.

The last time that I paused, I was truly lost in a solemn joy of the
Glory of the Coming Night; and maybe I laughed a little in my throat,
standing there alone in the midst of the Dusk upon the World. And, lo!
my content was answered out of the trees that bounded the country road
upon my right; and it was so as that some one had said: "And thou also!"
in glad understanding, that I laughed again a little in my throat; as
though I had only a half-believing that any true human did answer my