I
The Earth
Pale, patient, with her
throbbing heart at rest,1
Waiting with half closed, half expectant eyes,2
Till slumber’s lips shall cleave in pitying wise,3
Full of sweet comfort to her brows and breast,4
She feels by one and one in the bright West5
Fade the long trails of gold, and wavering shades6
Leap from lone forests and forgotten glades,7
And dance and shimmer at the moon’s behest.8
What change is on the fields ?— the old known land9
Spreads, by some goddess of the twilight planned,10
A cloudy world of formless trees and flowers,11
Where with cool hands the placid gardener, night,12
Waters the blossoms of the pale moonlight13
With quiet dews of unregarded hours.14