The yellow book: an illustrated quarterly (9.1896)

188

Sunshine

Because your subtle smile had caught
My soul in tangled trance of thought—
Your sweet hushed speech I strove to hear,
You seemed to sway so strangely near . . .
Sun-Vision, was it I you sought ?

A mortal maid, whose heart is yet
Too full of all the world’s vain fret—•

The mournful music of this Star—

That you who have been born afar
Hear only faintly—and forget. . . .

Stay, Spirit ’neath these sighing trees,
Whose lace-like shadow broideries
Dapple your dainty loveliness. . . .

Are you a dream ? I cannot guess . . .
God’s earth is full of mysteries. . . .