The Memory of Earth
IN the wet dusk silver sweet,	
Down the violet scented ways,	
As I moved with quiet feet	
I was met by mighty days.	

On the hedge the hanging dew	
Glassed the eve and stars and skies;	
While I gazed a madness grew	
Into thundered battle cries.	

Where the hawthorn glimmered white,	
Flashed the spear and fell the stroke—	
Ah, what faces pale and bright	
Where the dazzling battle broke!	

There a hero-hearted queen	
With young beauty lit the van:	
Gone! the darkness flowed between	
All the ancient wars of man.	

While I paced the valley’s gloom	
Where the rabbits pattered near,	
Shone a temple and a tomb	
With the legend carven clear:	
“Time put by a myriad fates	
That her day might dawn in glory;	
Death made wide a million gates	
So to close her tragic story.”