In dark tempestuous night
One that held acquaintance with the stars
And the waxing gibbuos moon
Alone with good angels
On the wide landscape
But to scribble poetry
Beneath the wide heaven
And mend my rhyme
Upon the surface of the universal earth
In the deep wide seed of misery
As in that trance of wonderous thought I lay,
Will it come with a blessing or a curse?
After so many deaths I live and write
Till that divine idea takes a shrine
Go! write your lovely sketches
From dull oblivion
The restlessness of pain,
Eighteen lines! A statement of life-
Hush! Fail I alone in words and deeds
What does it all mean poet?
The verses, the ciphers and twiddlings
Thou art tired; best be still
Ah! the sacred silence of a blank untarnished page
And the requiem of the wordsmiths pen.
Am I but a sad name?




ELEETE J MUIR.