Poetry Archives

Dark eyes, wonderful, strange and dear they shone
  A moment’s space;
And wandering under the white stars I had gone
  In a strange place.

Over the half door careless, your white hand
  A moment gleamed;
And I was walking on some great storm-heaped strand
  Forever it seemed.

I would give all that glory to see once more,
  A moment’s space,
Your eyes gleam strange and dark above the half door,
  Your Hand’s white grace.