Classic Poem

Through the downiness of the grey dawn,
Through its grey gossamer softness—
Your eyes;

Through the wonder-shine of the one star,
Beautiful, solitary, in the East—
Your eyes;

Through the fierceness, the cymbaling of colors,
Through the whitening glory of the springing sun—
Your eyes;

Through the chattering of birds, through their songs,
Delicate, lovely, swaying in the tree-tops,
Through the softness of little feathered breasts and throats
Through the skitterings of little feet,
Through the whirrings of silken wings—
Your eyes;

Through the green quiet, the hot languor of noon,
Sudden, through its cleft peace—
Your eyes;

Through the slenderness of maiden trees kissed aflame by the mouth of the Spring,
Through them standing against a slowly goldening
Western sky,
Through them standing very still, wondering,
Wistful, waiting—
Your eyes;

Through the beautiful Dusk, through the beautiful, blue-black hair of the Dusk,
Through her beautiful parted hair—
Your eyes,