One of the twain was long and dusty grey,
And like a spark that in the ashes lies,
Satiric laughter glinted in his eyes
And made his nose auroral with its ray:
...
Not till the sun, that brings to birth
The myriad marvels of the earth
And bids us look with wandering eyes
...
The spell of Shakespeare fills the heart
With earthly music loud and low;
But Marlowe drives the clouds apart,
...
The seeking souls, by baleful fires made blind,
Torn by entrapping brambles, thirsty and mad,
...
While the summer day is hot
You and I will loaf awhile,
Lolling in a leafy spot,
Lali of the cunning smile.
...
A timid child with heart oppressed
By images of sin,
I slunk into the bush for rest,
And found my fairy kin.
...
While to the clarion blown by Marlowe's breath
Tall Tragedy tramped by in hues of death,
And Shakespeare yet was tuning string by string,
With English hawthorn crowned, in that glad spring
...
A singing voice is in my dream
The voice of Erskine, on his boulders,
...
Grant me a moment of peace,
Let me but open mine eyes,
Forgetting the empire of lies
And warfare's majestic increase
...