The night was like a jewell’d crown—

(Could jewels be so soft a thing!)

For stars and wind were in the town

And by the highways entering,

Plucked there as on a viol string,

Until—somewhere—a woman’s scream—

Sharply shattered the dream!

Silence within

The upper twilight of a temple lies

Asleep, with pendant plumes—a dreaming god—

And dreams the pageantry of things—and dreams

The gifts that he has given with his hands—

The gifts that he has taken with his hands—

And dreams his own eternity.

I am one that loves

The stars of labyrinthine night whom the shrill dawn

Devours, the quietude of ultimate slopes

Thoughtful of twilight, peering moons that shed

Unrisen glamours thru the umbrageous wood

With gnome and goblin rife, and the light spray

Of gray spring rains enveloping the hills.