ANONYMOUS PLAYS

Ye too, dim watchfires of some darkling hour,

Whose fame forlorn time saves not nor proclaims

For ever, but forgetfulness defames

And darkness and the shadow of death devour,

Lift up ye too your light, put forth your power,

Let the far twilight feel your soft small flames

And smile, albeit night name not even their names,

Ghost by ghost passing, flower blown down on flower:

That sweet-tongued shadow, like a star's that passed

Singing, and light was from its darkness cast

To paint the face of Painting fair with praise:

And that wherein forefigured smiles the pure

Fraternal face of Wordsworth's Elidure

Between two child-faced masks of merrier days.