Vanishings
As one whose eyes have watched the stricken day Swoon to its crimson death adown the sea, Turning his face to eastward suddenly Sees a lack-lustre world all chill and gray,—
Then, wandering sunless whitherso he may, Feels the first dubious dumb obscurity, And vague foregloomings of the Dark to be, Close like a sadness round his glimmering way; So I, from drifting dreambound on and on About strange isles of utter bliss, in seas Whose waves are unimagined melodies, Rose and beheld the dreamless world anew:
Sad were the fields, and dim with splendours gone The strait sky-glimpses fugitive and few.