Athered onward in thick flight, Unseen, but

[Mainwaring Gormly]

Y that grey and solemn Water, with its

ghostly quays--

Vistas of vast arch and column, Shadowed by unearthly trees-- Biddings
of sweet power compel me, And I go with bated breath, Listening to the
tales they tell me, Parables of Life
and Death. In a tongue that once was spoken, Ere the world was

cooled by Time, When the spirit flowed unbroken
Through the flesh, and the
Sublime Made the eyes of men far-seeing, And their souls as pure as
rain, They declare the ends of being, And the sacred need of pain. For
they know the sweetest reasons For the products most malign-- They can
tell the paths and seasons Of the farthest suns that shine. How the
moth-wing's iridescence By an inward plan was wrought,

And they read me curious lessons In the secret ways of thought. When day
turns, and over heaven To the balmy western verge Sail the victor
fleets of even, And the pilot stars emerge, Then my city rounds and
rises, Like a vapour formed afar,
And its sudden girth surprises,
And its shadowy gates unbar. Dreamy crowds are moving yonder In a faint
and phantom blue; Through the dusk I lean, and wonder If their

winsome shapes are true; But in veiling indecision

Come my questions back again-- Which is real? The fleeting vision? Or
the fleeting world of men? EVENING From upland slopes I see the cows
file by, Lowing, great-chested, down the homeward trail, By dusking
fields and meadows shining pale With moon-tipped dandelions. Flickering
high, A peevish
night-hawk in the western sky Beats up into
the lucent solitudes, Or drops
with griding wing. The stil
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