Poems — First Poems

EVENING

The bleak fields are asleep, My heart alone wakes;

The evening in the harbour Down his red sails takes.

Night, guardian of dreams, Now wanders through the land;

The moon, a lily white, Blossoms within her hand.

MARY VIRGIN

How came, how came from out thy night Mary, so much light And so much gloom: Who was thy bridegroom?

Thou callest, thou callest and thou hast forgot That thou the same art not Who came to me In thy Virginity.

I am still so blossoming, so young.

How shall I go on tiptoe From childhood to Annunciation Through the dim twilight Into thy Garden.

THE BOOK OF PICTURES