And before dawn I must or fail or win.


_THE MOON_

Cirqued with dim stars and delicate moonflowers,
Silent she moves among the silent hours--
Watching the spheres that glow with golden heat
Under her feet.

Then, when the sunrise tints the east with light,
She fades to westward, with the dreamy night
And all her starry train--in faint disguise
Of twilight skies.


_TO YVONNE_

Such things have been, Yvonne; but you and I,
Can we touch lips again across the years?
Re-order what is past? Forget--or try
Not to remember what through mists of tears
Is still too memorable? Dare we two
Start both our lives again, as we were young
And happy, in such love as falls to few?
Nay, for our violins are all unstrung.

Yet it is well that memory should hold
Some few pale rose-leaves plucked in bygone days,
That still are sweet, despite those pains untold