OCTOBER EVENING
From here I cannot see the ocean though
I hear its muffled beating far away.
The small roof-silhouettes of ashen grey
Lie flat upon the failing sunset glow,
As clearly etched, as delicately bold
As filmy cinder-shapes before the fire.
The dead leaves rising in a constant spire
Are utter black upon the sky's blurred gold.
Somewhere an owlet whoops. And now I see
Down where the roadway's sweeping curve grows less
A candle with its goblin eye of mirth
From a low window winking eerily.
There's nothing else except the loneliness
Of a great wind between the sky and earth.
I hear its muffled beating far away.
The small roof-silhouettes of ashen grey
Lie flat upon the failing sunset glow,
As clearly etched, as delicately bold
As filmy cinder-shapes before the fire.
The dead leaves rising in a constant spire
Are utter black upon the sky's blurred gold.
Somewhere an owlet whoops. And now I see
Down where the roadway's sweeping curve grows less
A candle with its goblin eye of mirth
From a low window winking eerily.
There's nothing else except the loneliness
Of a great wind between the sky and earth.
SAINT NEREID
An ancient legend of the Church doth tell
Of how a hermit living in the wood
Baptized a Satyr that the monster should
Receive a soul, thereby the twain did dwell
A many years within their forest cell
Till both were reverenced as saints. I would
There were another story of such good
And blessing that upon a mermaid fell.
Saint Nereid—to wear a halo dim
Of silver wavy-patterned, robes of pale
Azure and violet and beryl-green,
To wait, a handmaid, moony-haired and slim,
In service of the one whom seamen hail
As "Stella Maris," ocean's holy Queen.
Of how a hermit living in the wood
Baptized a Satyr that the monster should
Receive a soul, thereby the twain did dwell
A many years within their forest cell
Till both were reverenced as saints. I would
There were another story of such good
And blessing that upon a mermaid fell.
Saint Nereid—to wear a halo dim
Of silver wavy-patterned, robes of pale
Azure and violet and beryl-green,
To wait, a handmaid, moony-haired and slim,
In service of the one whom seamen hail
As "Stella Maris," ocean's holy Queen.
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