THE WANDERERS
WITHIN my mind two spirits strayed
From out their still and purer air,
And there a moment's sojourn made;
As lovers will in woodlands bare.
Nought heeded they where now they stood,
Since theirs its alien solitude
Beyond imagination fair.
The light an earthly candle gives
When it is quenched leaves only dark;
Theirs yet in clear remembrance lives
And, still within, I whispered, 'Hark;'
As one who faintly on high has heard
The call note of a hidden bird
Even sweeter than the lark.
Yet 'twas their silence breathed only this—
'I love you.' As if flowers might say,
'Such is our natural fragrantness;'
Or dewdrop at the break of day
Cry 'Thus I beam.' Each turned a head,
And each its own clear radiance shed
With joy and peace at play.
So in a gloomy London street
Princes from Eastern realms might pause
In secret converse, then retreat.
Yet without haste passed these from sight;
As if a human mind were not
Wholly a dark and dismal spot—
At least in their own light.