VI
THE LAGOON
When sinks the sun and leaves Descending Night
To droop and brood above the dark lagoon,
Forth from his grassy covert slips a swan
And preens his feathers by the crescent moon.
The wild broom kisses the column's fluted splendor
And breathes its spicy perfume to the night,
Beneath the acacia's netted boughs the tender
Muse bends o'er her trove in gleaming white,
And down upon her marble beauty falls—
Upon the portals green as sea-caves
And the ivory walls—
A radiance as soft as ancient noons,
A radiance of old remembered light.
Old as oblivion are these clustered pillars,
Set for a temple in a forgotten day,
'Twas then the Styx along this fragrant margin,
Flowed dim and cool and soundless on its way.
Back, backward through the glimmering corridors,
Along the water, in the storied gloom,
Past cypress bowers
And sweet broom flowers,
My yearning spirit gropes to find its home.
