The Equinox (Volume I, Number IX)

AS IN A GLASS, DARKLY THERE is a silent wood, where swart flowers lift Insolent heads in purple savagery, Sullenly brooding by a soundless sea. There the drugged winds for ever change and shift, Charged with barbaric incenses that sift Languid with sleep from tree to shadowed tree. Where did I breathe that air? Where did I see That wood beside the lake where slow winds drift? I am quick with flickering fantasies to-night Meshed in the quivering fabric of my soul Like tremulous visions of another sphere. O heart, are they sick memories of delight Lost long ago? Or glimpses of a goal That I shall win after long pain and fear? 80