VI

Men close the door on evening when the fire Defiies the crouching dark, the autumn chill, And the dead day becomes an old desire Stirring the blood which night now bids be still. With random talk or solitary book, Stranger to care, each in his safe abode Lifts to the chimney wind a dreaming look... The world goes by unheard upon the road.

Men close the door on evening, but the heart Cannot be closed to love, however fain A man might be to see this guest depart Into the lonely black November rain. So come you in, to holy supper spread: Here is my hand, my hunger, and my bed.

VII

Leander saw this moon. Fond Eloise

Rose from her prayers to drink this blossoming dark.

Beneath these stars swart Caesar took his ease

Upon a perfumed barge. The passionate spark

That drove mad Launcelot to pilgrimage

Was struck from yonder white Aldebaran, Even as Venus now casts down a gauge Of the immortal fire we gaze upon.

Surely all lovers through the echoing years Must move about us in a voiceless shade, Recalled by us to ecstasy and tears

And all the tender vows their lips once made.

We love not of ourselves alone, we bear

The dreams of these and all their bright despair.

VIII

Hardest of all for lovers to believe

That by no mortal magic, no pathetic art, The heights forsaken, two cannot achieve Those heights again. So my rebellious heart Strains toward a lost horizon and demands That time return and lift us up again

To peaks that dominate far purple lands And April's kingdom tender green with grain.

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