When twixt the sunset and the dawning moon
Thy head upon my arm at rest thou'rt lay
As some strange crescent of the sky's array
In perfect curve and line, as if the moon
Of beauty's self thou there didst hold as soon
Star given unto thine own child heart's sway
Then to my waiting soul mine eyes did say
Her beauty is no shadow passing soon

This outer semblance of the inner worth
Shall wax and wane as doth the heaven's queen
And crescent be but song thy heart doth sing
And song #Merry/ the heart shall sing with love and
wirth
While shall ye two behold the reborn green
Of half a hundred times returning spring .

A pause and the HEART speaketh

Is Hild, one star above the cloud and thou:
And all the laggard earth grows lovliness
(The night might)
The night might pause at this and I should bless
The evening perfume and the trees that bow
Bearers of homage, on the clear lined brow
Of hill that doth the waiting sky address
Sky warm metallic blue that ne'er the less
Is restless till the moon ship show her prow.

The night in sooth awaits a moon but I
Haveing thy star above the veils of night
See only of the world the things set right
I see thy heart and lo I have no cry
That unto me there come some greater light
Yea I would hide my face did such pass height K.

"I am not beautiful" you say

"You lie, to tell me that my eyes are fair
" The dreams you think you see lie mirrored there
Are thine, I am but shadow in the play ."
Een so you write it.

Is it thus you pay
Mine eyes that they have striven and won where
The others came not? By secret stair
By sliding pinnel and by hidden way
I found your inner childhood and the truth
And will you mock me that the mirror shows
But what the blind ones saw before I came?

Speak! hath not my deathless soul good eyes
As this dumb thing of glass that ackward throws
But half the sunlight and no whit the flame
Of sun and truth and love?

Speak! asd have ruth!

B

of other worlds, many strange, many seeming fantasys
yet knew not why.

wisdom formula 1 or 6.

KALON; KALOUN - alive with the wisdom of the angels.

......

Thou little mother of the shadows all
That whirl around my heart as pagentry
of strange old deeds and wonders yet to be
O little mother of the elfin call
that held my childhood in the arched hall
Where thou hadst dreamed old runes of Romery
and Oh watch my coursing on the saphir sea
whose waves are winds against high heavens wall

Oh may thy spells be strong, thou that dost stand
a flaming beacon in the rings of flame
that plotst an unknown rast that winneth sure
unto God's house

to thou kin of them that came
and do return unto the poplar land
where deeds are mist and dreams alone endure.

Perhaps Rosetti's *D'Annunciation* to show that my words are for
a symbol of a certain spirit in art, not for one canvass only,
even tho that canvass be epitome of that spirit
in a wonder age
and Rosetti's be expression of the spirit embodied in one man
"Born out of his own due time"

The (?) neither Morris nor Rosetti nor any ( one ) of us
is ( are ) born out of our (own )due time . But are born with the
great , pure things of old great times within us
THAT we make our time anew

fly leaf # M.W. bx.

Bates and Guild Co .
42 Charing St.

Boston . Mass . Masters in Art .

I lay beneath a poplar tree and dark
uncertain branches lay upon the lawn
their dim half shadows , that the thought of dawn
should lengthen out and clarify , and mark
as penciling upon the grass , quite stark
and set in shape , but now quite darkly tawn
there lurks a wolfish thing .... fawn ?
what see you with... upon my tree
What dryad left her ring...

I half forget the tale of witchery
that no man told me , yet my head doth bear

Dear heart from out the dark I call to thee
To thee toward whom my thoughts in absence are
As birds that seek the south warm shores afar
And fly above a purple-welling sea
As small white birds my flying thoughts should be
That bear no bullit mark or crimson scar
That earthly cruelty contrives to mar
The thing god-made to perfect purity

I pray thee in thy castle tower receive
Their far brought tidings tho the storms have wrought
Some damage to their travel weary wings,
But kiss these bruised wings for they have brought
my hearts own whisper thru their wanderings
And knowing that dear thing I shall not grieve . . . H.

(--Wentzel--picture--)

MY lady is tall and fair, to see
Shee swayeth as a poplar tree,
When the wind bloweth merrily,
Her eyes are grey, as the grey of the sea,
Not clouded much to trouble me.

For the wind bloweth merrily.

My lady's glance is fair and straight
My lady's smile is changed of late

Tho the wind bloweth merrily.

Some new soul in her eyes I see
Not as year-syne she greetety me

When the wind bloweth merrily

Some strange new thing she cannot
Some mystic elf raed spell

When the wind bloweth merrily

Maketh her long hands tremole some
Her lips part, tho no words come

When the wind bloweth merrily

Her hair is crown as the leaves that fall
She hath no villeiny at all

When the wind bloweth merrily

When the wind bloweth my lady's hair
I sow with a murmured prayer

For the wind bloweth merrily

As a clear wind that bloweth after rain
My lady cometh South again

While the wind bloweth merrily

With my lady far, the days be long
For her home coming I'd clasp the song

That the wind bloweth merrily

What e'en-lips this word of lady's praise lays-

Wind song, this is my Lady's praise

That the wind bloweth merrily

For her home coming I'd clasb the song

With my Lady 'star, the daya be long

My Lady corner'd again

As a cleft wind surer bloweth after rain

For the wind bloweth merrily

I now with a marredied brother

When the wind bloweth my Lady a hair

When the wind bloweth merrily

She had no villeiny at all

Her hair is crown sa the leaves that fall

When the wind bloweth merrily

Her hair bar't, due no worka come

Marketh her long handa fremowe some

When the wind bloweth merrily

Some warky eft red a shell

Some arrange new tuing and cannot

When the wind bloweth merrily

If I sa dear ayne and freerly me

Two the wind bloweth merrily

My Lady a smile is crused of late

My Lady's glance is fair and arrauff

For the wind it bloweth merrily

Wind words only serve that best

To My Lady needs I send the test

Her eyes are freckled, so I know
When the wind bloweth merrily?

What be lipp'd words of all man's praise

Wind song this is my Lady's praise