‘ A BROKEN RAINBOW ON THE SKIES OF MAY’

A broken rainbow on the skies of May,

Touching the dripping roses and low clouds,

And in wet clouds its scattered glories lost:—

So in the sorrow of her soul the ghost

Of one great love, of iridescent ray,

Spanning the roses dim of memory,

Against the tumult of life's rushing crowds —

A broken rainbow on the skies of May.

A flashing humming-bird among the flowers,

Deep-coloured blooms; its slender tongue and bill

Sucking the syrups and the calyxed myrrhs,

Till, being full of sweets, away it whirrs:—

Such was his love that won her heart's rich bowers

To give to him their all, their honied showers,

The bloom from which he drank his body's fill —

A flashing humming-bird among the flowers.

A moon, moth-white, that through long mists of fleece

Moves amber-girt into a bulk of black,

And, lost to vision, rims the black with froth:—

A love that swept its moon, like some great moth,

Across the heaven of her soul's young peace;

And, smoothly passing, in the clouds did cease

Of time, through which its burning light comes back —

A moon, moth-white, that moves through mists of fleece.

A bolt of living thunder downward hurled,

Momental blazing from the piled-up storm,

That instants out the mountains and the ocean,

The towering crag, then blots the sight's commotion:—

Love, love that swiftly coming bared the world,

The deeps of life,‘ round which fate's clouds are curled,

And, ceasing, left all night and black alarm —

A bolt of living thunder downward hurled.