  [To F. W. Harvey] Out of the smoke and dust of the little room With tea-talk loud and laughter of happy boys, I passed into the dusk. Suddenly the noise Ceased with a shock, left me alone in the gloom, To wonder at the miracle hanging high Tangled in twigs, the silver crescent clear.— Time passed from mind. Time died; and then we were Once more at home together, you and I. The elms with arms of love wrapped us in shade Who watched the ecstatic West with one desire, One soul uprapt; and still another fire Consumed us, and our joy yet greater made: That Bach should sing for us, mix us in one The joy of firelight and the sunken sun. |
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