  YOUR carmine flakes of bloom to-night The fire of wintry sunsets hold; Again in dreams you burn to light A fair Canadian garden old. The blue north summer over it Is bland with long ethereal days; The gleaming martins wheel and flit Where breaks your sun down orient ways. There, when the gradual twilight falls, Through quietudes of dusk afar, Hermit, antiphonal hermit calls From hills below the first pale star. Then, in your passionate love’s foredoom Once more your spirit stirs the air, And you are lifted through the gloom To warm the coils of her dark hair. |
|
