The voice of my pilot
Steals soft to insist.
O azure of sky, let
Me pass to the tryst!
I hear the low voice of my love; and I rest
A maid on his breast.
ORPHEUS
Thou child of soft wind
And the luminous air,
Thou, stealing behind
As a ghost, as a rare
Soft dew, as a blind
Fierce lion from his lair,
Come forth! I invoke thee, O rain, look forth with thy
countenance fair!
THE RAIN
From highland far drifted,
From river-fed lawn,
From clouds thunder-rifted,
I leap as a fawn.
The voice is uplifted,
The lord of my dawn;
My spirit is shifted,
My love is withdrawn.
I hear the sweet feet of my God ; I know him ; I fall
In tears at his call.
4I