The Vagrant of Time

by Charles G.D. Roberts

 

ON THE LAGOON

 
                    SOOTHE, soothe
                    The day-fall, soothe,
Till wrinkling winds and seas are smooth,
                    Till yon low band
                    Of purpling strand
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Breathe seaward dreams from the inner land,
Till lapped in mild half-lights our dream-blown boat
                    Is felt to float,
                    To fall, to float.

                    The sundown rose
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                    Delays and glows
O'er yon spired peak's remoter snows.
                    Uprolling soon
                    The red-ripe moon
Lolls in the pines in drowsed half swoon;
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Till thin moon shades entangle us, and shift
                    Our visions as we drift
                    And drift.

                    From musk-rose blooms
                    In the coppice glooms
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Glide argosies of spice perfumes.
                    The slow-pulsed seas,
                    The shadowy trees,
The night spell holds us one with these,
Till, Dear, we scarce know life from sleep, but seem
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                    Dissolved together
                    In sweet half dream.