Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/127

ii.

And yet these days of subtler air and finer

Delight,
When lovelier looks the darkness, and diviner
The light--

The gift they give of all these golden hours,
Whose urn
Pours forth reverberate rays or shadowing showers
In turn--

Clouds, beams, and winds that make the live day's track
Seem living--
What were they did no spirit give them back
Thanksgiving?

iii.

Dead air, dead fire, dead shapes and shadows, telling

Time nought;
Man gives them sense and soul by song, and dwelling
In thought.