Sombre as Priam's dreadful daughter,
Menacing as a murderer's smile,
Tall as the fingers of the dead,
Stood they beside the quiet water.

The moon went out in a golden blur,
And the small stars followed after her,
But when the fireflies cleft the air
I saw those three forms standing there,
Until the night cooled, and the trees
Shook in the strong hands of the breeze,
And then I heard their footsteps press
The muffled grass beyond the door,
And so went forth for ever more,
My three Fates to the wilderness.

Pomfret, 1919


XI - THE MAKER RESTS

I have worked too long and my hands are tired,
Said the maker;
From the earliest dawn unto deepest nightfall
Have I laboured.

From the earliest dawn before any spirit
Stirred from sleeping,
When no single note from the frozen forest
Wakened music,