Charles Edward Eaton

When I had seen the withering grass, I wished for crystal in its leaf. I saw the swan, death-loving, pass, And watched the pole star of belief Shift and swing in a golden arc Till I was sure the earth was turned In a mad whirl of light and dark [...]

Say not my eyes are a return; Though I have been in many lands, Volcanic peaks of time still burn And throw a flame upon my hands. Say not my voice is music's mood When music accents song alone. Though I have crossed heart's longitude, The lat [...]