Arthur Upson

"Night-refuge, set aloft this travelled hill, 'Tis deemed by many a lodger but an inn; Others look round them better and scarce fill Their first cup ere its mystery doth begin, And they are led by some divine desire, Where, midmost of an inner room, there bends Clear flame on golden altar, to which fire A wide-eyed vestal changelessly attends. And most, so led, have joy to serve that light And with the jealous priestess vigil keep; But woe to any wearying neophyte, And woe to him who serves with eyes of sleep: To such is she more bitter than to those On whom, unlit, her doors forever close!"

"Friend of my heart! Among the Autumn trees We walk together baring thought to thought Of this vast symbol-earth wherein lie wrought Hints of immortal dreams and destinies! And you and I are part of all of these! Ourselves mysterious emblems, tones half-caught From voices far, wherein our souls have sought Deep meanings, silent, 'mid earth's melodies."

"Out of the conquered Past Unravishable Beauty; Hearts that are dew and dust Rebuking the dream of Death; Flower of the clay down-cast Triumphant in earth’s aroma; Strings that were strained in rust A-tremble with Music’s breath!Wine that was spilt in haste Arising in fumes more precious; Garlands that fell forgot Rooting to wondrous bloom; Youth that would flow to waste Pausing in pool-green valleys— And Passion that lasted not Surviving the voiceless Tomb!"