ROSA IGNOTA
On the breast of a love that is fled afar, this is soft, and gentle,
and dead ;
That passed away on the stream of night ; that flows and
flows and flows
From the heart of a faded Rose.
XII
THE SEER
Over the billows
Of soft green grass,
Under the willows,
The gray sprites pass.
In twilight’s glamour
The shadows grow,—
Cadent life’s clamour !
So low, so low,
That the world is hushed
As the white light pales ;
No longer flushed
The daylight fails ;
The fading light
No longer glows
In the west; the night
Still deeper grows:
O secret Rose !
O secret Rose!
O secret Name!
The west wind blows
As the hot red flame
x L 161