Page:Anthology of Magazine Verse (1921).djvu/34
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SAND HILLS
The world is spread with rough grained silk,
crumpled a little where the sky indents it
and cuts off the view.
crumpled a little where the sky indents it
and cuts off the view.
The very old gods,
long since tired of northern lights
and seas too jeweled
and snows too glittering,—
tired, too, of men,—
the very old gods come here
in the late evening
to sit quietly on the warm gray silk
and rest their eyes
with milky opal tints
and the smoky blue
flecked by the dim fire of giant stars.
long since tired of northern lights
and seas too jeweled
and snows too glittering,—
tired, too, of men,—
the very old gods come here
in the late evening
to sit quietly on the warm gray silk
and rest their eyes
with milky opal tints
and the smoky blue
flecked by the dim fire of giant stars.
The MeasureHenry Bellamann
"JUNKETS," IMMORTAL[1]
"What has become of Junkets I know not. I suppose Queen Mab has eaten him."
—Leigh Hunt to Charles Cowden Clarke, July 1, 1817.
["Junkets" was his intimates' affectionate nickname for John Keats, applied to his exuberance of spirit.]
—Leigh Hunt to Charles Cowden Clarke, July 1, 1817.
["Junkets" was his intimates' affectionate nickname for John Keats, applied to his exuberance of spirit.]
What has become of "Junkets"? I know well.
The goldfinch, the wildbriar, the elm-trees know.
The secret's one the sunset burns to tell.
The gossiping brooks divulge it as they flow.
The tranced white clouds convey it; tattle-tale
Is every leaf in every woodland ride.
Sunlight on dappled lane and grassy swale
Smiles it to all the English countryside.
The goldfinch, the wildbriar, the elm-trees know.
The secret's one the sunset burns to tell.
The gossiping brooks divulge it as they flow.
The tranced white clouds convey it; tattle-tale
Is every leaf in every woodland ride.
Sunlight on dappled lane and grassy swale
Smiles it to all the English countryside.
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