The Vagrant of Time

by Charles G.D. Roberts


 

FROM THE HIGH WINDOW OF YOUR ROOM


 

FROM the high window of your room,
    Above the roofs, and streets, and cries,
Lying awake and still, I watch
     The wonder of the dawn arise.

Slow tips the world’s deliberate rim,

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    Descending to the baths of day:
Up floats the pure, ethereal tide
    And floods the outworn dark away.

The city’s sprawled, uneasy bulk
    Illumines slowly in my sight.

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The crowded roofs, the common walls,
    The grey streets, melt in mystic light.

It passes. Then, with longing sore
    For that veiled light of paradise,
I turn my face,—and find it in

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    The wonder of your waking eyes.