Song of the wave / George Cabot Lodge [electronic text]

IV
WIND OF TWILIGHT

"Cuando besa á la praderaLa brisa que entre las ramasPasa con voz lastimera."

— M. GARCIA MEROU.

GONE the red reaches of repining sea, Thou, thro' forgotten twilights, and thy pain, Wind of immortal longing, fresh as rain, Wonderful, fresh and faint, O mystery! Give me again the languorous touch of thee Lost in the purple shadows, while the main, Intervalled, lifts its choral, and again Sorrow divine and calm thro' thee to me. Give me the steady silence: sea, sky, shore, Earth and her simple idylls!—All is gone! All shall return, but be the same no more.Give me, O wonder! still thy dim dark kiss, Cool on my temples, while I bide alone And cling to youth and linger pale for this.