How strangely through the immense unclouded gleam
Of shadowy skies, to starry calmness given,
Flash out these hurrying golden lights that seem
The wild aerial accidents of heaven!
Silent as blossoms that in odorous Mays
Fall at the tremulous breeze’s mild caress,
Down dim serenities of night’s awful ways
They float mysteriously to nothingness!
But while in volatile beauty speeding so,
They touch the infinite with scarce deeper trace
Than if some languorous hand should vaguely throw
A glimmering lily through the dusk of space!
Along its measureless purple, densely-starred,
No answering tremor wakes, or faintest noise;
Eternally by these weird mishaps unmarred
Reigns the cold radiance of its equipoise!
Even thus, one after one, the friends we prize
Drop from life’s mazes if the moment dooms,
Closing at last their dulled, indifferent eyes,
And journeying forth amid unfathomed glooms!
Yet where they have passed, at fate’s commandant signs,
Too often, against the darkness death may weave,
Their memory’s brightness perishably shines,
Like those pale furrows that the meteors leave!
Edgar Fawcett.