From Pan's safe-hidden altar
Dim wraiths of incense falter
In waving spiral, making sweet the moon!

Aroused from fragrant covers,
The vows of vanished lovers
Take voice in whisperings that rise and pass;
Where the crisped leaves are lying
A tremulous, low sighing
Breathes like a startled spirit o'er the grass.

Ah, Love! in some far garden,
In Arcady or Arden,
We two were lovers! Hush--remember not
The years in which I've missed you--
'Twas yesterday I kissed you
Beneath this haunted moon! Have you forgot?




Rose Dolores


THE moan of Rose Dolores, she made her plaint to me,
"My hair is lifted by the wind that sweeps in from the sea;
I taste its salt upon my lips--O jailer, set me free!"

"Content thee, Rose Dolores; content thee, child of care!
There's satin shoon upon thy feet and emeralds in thy hair,