COLLECTED POEMS
That song should thus forsaken be,
On that forgotten ground there lay
The broken flutes of Arcady.
The forest that was all so grand
When pipes and tabors had their sway
Stood leafless now, a ghostly band
Of skeletons in cold array.
A lonely surge of ancient spray
Told of an unforgetful sea,
But iron blows had hushed for aye
The broken flutes of Arcady.
No more by summer breezes fanned,
The place was desolate and gray;
But still my dream was to command
New life into that shrunken clay.
I tried it. And you scan to-day,
With uncommiserating glee,
The songs of one who strove to play
The broken flutes of Arcady.
ENVOY
So, Rock, I join the common fray,
To fight where Mammon may decree;
And leave, to crumble as they may,
The broken flutes of Arcady.
HER EYES
Up from the street and the crowds that went,
Morning and midnight, to and fro,
Still was the room where his days he spent,
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