I know a valley- through its solitude A brown road winds towards a mountain crest; There gnarly ti-trees dripping sweetness rest, And grasses bend, too heavily bedowed. In that still valley by the still lagoon, A ruined homestead for her secret shrine, Dwells Beautys self, half-earthly, half-devine- Thrilling, I saw her waken to the moon. In peaks of emerald the cactus crept, And there oer rafters falling to decay, A miracle of flowers, spray on spray, Burst into perfect life while nature slept. First a slim silver riband from the sky Uncurled green fronds from each imprisoned bud, Then, one by one, bathed in the beaming flood, Like ghost-notes in a spirit litany. They blossomed out before my eyes, Great chalices of snow filled up with light; Set in the mystic radiance of night They seemed a vision from immortal skies. Hidden in shadow near the still lagoon Nightly I worship at a secret shrine, There on a ruin- lily-white, devine, Is beauty lying naked to the moon! Lala Fisher
Posted on: Sun, 31 Aug 2014 02:55:51 +0000
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