I could never find thee horns, though day-long
I seek.
"Yet, keep the pipe, Thou: I will cut another one.
Keep the pipe and play on it for all the world to hear.
Ah, but it was good once to sit together in the sun!
Though I have but half a soul, it finds thee very
dear!
"Wise Thing, Mortal Thing, yet my half-soul fears thee!
Take the pipe and go thy ways,--quick now, for
the sun
Reels across the hot west and stumbles dazzled to
the sea.
Take the pipe, and oh-one kiss! then run, run, run! run!"
Silence on the mountain. Lonely stands the high cairn,
All the leaves a-shivering, all the stones dead-gray.
O thou cold small pipe, which way is fled that
Satyr's bairn?
I am lost and all alone, and down drops the day.
I was on the mountain, wandering, wandering
There I got this Pipe o' dreams. Strange, when
I blow,
Something deep as human love starts a-crying,
troubling.
Is it only sky-music, earth-music low?
FANNIE STEARNS DAVIS
THE MIRAGE
ACROSS the Bay are low-lying cliffs,
Where stand fishermen's cottages:
I can barely distinguish them with the naked eye.
But to-day the cliffs are lifted, escarpt,
Perpendicular, mysterious, inaccessible,
And those sordid dwellings have become
The magnificent fortified castles of Sea-kings.
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