THE GARDEN OF JANUS 
37 
 
VII 
 
I rose to seek him.  First my footsteps faint 
 Pressed the starred moss ;  but soon 
I wandered, like some sweet sequestered saint, 
 Into the wood, my mind.  The moon 
Was staggered by the trees ;  with fierce constraint 
 Hardly one ray 
Pierced to the ragged earth about their roots that lay. 
 
VIII 
 
I wandered, crying on my Lord.  I wandered 
 Eagerly seeking everywhere. 
The stores of life that on my lips he squandered 
 Grew into shrill cries of despair, 
Until the dryads frightened and dumfoundered 
 Fled into space— 
Like to a demon-king’s was grown my maiden face !   
 
IX 
 
At last I came unto the well, my soul. 
 In that still glass, I saw no sign 
Of him, and yet—what visions there uproll 
 To cloud that mirror-soul of mine ?   
Above my head there screams a flying scroll 
 Whose word burnt through 
My being as when stars drop in black disastrous dew. 
 
X 
 
For in that scroll was written how the globe 
 Of space became ;  of how the light