Guy Wetmore Carryl

“ The hesitant sun stands still, with the arch of a day complete,
And fingers the yielding latch on the door of his sequent dawn,
And the slender poplars shiver and gather about their feet
Their long, limp skirts of shadow that lay on the eastward lawn. ”

“ Till the sums on which we labor be solved by a single word!
Calm with the infinite calm of the North’s immutable star,
Crowned with serene omniscience, O Spirit of Deep Mid-Sea,
If thus majestic and mute God’s stately seneschals are,
What, in His own high heaven, shall your Maker and Master be?
Am I then the last of the men that this day departed saw,
Sole survivor of all whom it roused to strive and stir,
That I stand alone in the night, and, beaten to bay by awe,
Confront in the sudden stillness the eloquent eyes of Her? ”