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The Vision

ISSUE:  Autumn 1940

O starry face, bound in grave strands of hair,
Aloof, remote, past word or thought to bless,
Life’s haunting mystery and the soul’s long care,
Music unheard, heart’s inmost silentness,
Beauty this earthly life can ne’er fulfil—
Thou garnered loveliness of earth, sky, sea—
Which in its fainting pilgrimage is still
Steadfast desire of my soul’s loyalty;
Death’s haunting harp-strings, sleep’s mandragora,
Mockery of waking and the dark’s despair,
Life’s changeless vision that fades not away—
O starry face, bound in grave strands of hair!
Hands faintly sweet with flowers from fields unseen,
Breasts cold as mountain snow and far waves’ foam,
Eyes changeless and immortal and serene—
Spent am I,
Wanderer, and you call me home!


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