SENTIMENTAL SUMMER.

The West has plucked its flowers and has thrown

Them fading on the night. Out of the sky's

Black depths there smiles a greeting from those eyes,

Where all the Real, all I have ever known

Of the divine is held. And not alone

Do I stand here now... a presence seems to rise:

Your voice sounds near across my memories,

And answering fingers brush against my own.

Yes, it is you: for evening holds those strands

Of fire and darkness twined in one to make

Your loveliness a web of magic mesh,

Whose cross-weft harmony of soul and flesh

Shadows a thought or glows, when smiles awake,

Like sunlight passionate on southern lands.