Page:The roamer and other poems (1920).djvu/117

With hands, whose tender stroke was burning fire.
The mountain-cone was swathed in sunset flame,
As with a mantle; opalescent gleamed
The dying skies; one white and tremulous star
From light emerging, pale with quivering points,
Hung faint upon the orange edge of night,
Whereon the angel gazed; lovely in him,
The form of beauty full incarnate glowed,
The bloom of all desire: instant he passed.
"O, is the beauty of the evening star
The path of thy departure, spirit fair?"—
The Roamer spoke with syllables unheard.
Horizon-low, the heavenly planet shone,
And sank; far off the sweet light died away.
Night fell, the visionary peak went out;
About the Roamer a great darkness drew;
Lonely, he turned to his dim hostel, sleep,
And laid his head upon the dreamer's stone.