XI Through the deep night the leaves speak, tree to tree
XII I walked the hollow pavements of the town
XIII In tireless march I move from sphere to sphere
XIV A while you shared my path and solitude
XV There is a void that reason can not face
XVI The mirrors of all ages are the eyes
XVII We sat in silence till the twilight fell
XVIII He clung to me, his young face dark with woe




BOOK I
A MISCELLANY

I - LA MARE DES FEES

The leaves rain down upon the forest pond,
An elfin tarn green-shadowed in the fern;
Nine yews ensomber the wet bank, beyond
The autumn branches of the beeches burn
With yellow flame and red amid the green,
And patches of the darkening sky between.

This is an ancient country; in this wood
The Druids raised their sacrificial stones;
Here the vast timeless silences still brood
Though the cold wind's October monotones
Fan the enchanted senses with the dread
Of holiness long-past and beauty dead.