MORNINGRISE Wistful at your memory Your nearness late has moulded me- Like the grass next the high beech copse At the graying of eastern regions You are gone! You are gone! (Night's silk falling stops) As the dew Queen's mothy legions UNFINISHED SONG (after Thomas Hardy) I danced at the fayre with a straw-hatted miss Her eyes with rare lovingkindess shone In time whomever shall know them his He I shall envy, forever on FIRST PRINCESS OF THE JUPITER MOONS Orange-haired spacenymph in your terrestrial dress Let me hold you in my Sun's early light Yours are the skies spiral galaxies caress In the embrace of inviolate Night
