After Tea
See how the aged trembling hands of Day
Spill over the white cloth and tea-cups blue,
Red wine from his last goblet poured away;
So let me by the window sit with you,
And watch the sun drop down behind the trees,
Or gleam across the snow — a crimson bar;
For in still, mystic moments such as these
Down unknown by-ways we may wander far.
The crimson turns to purple on the snow,
The orange sky grown gray, and glimmering lights
Of scattered star-lamps through the darkness glow
But neither Night nor Death my soul affrights.
For clear there gleams, all earthly dark above.
The ever-burning star-lamp of your love.
~~
F.O. Call (1878-1956)
from Acanthus and Wild Grape, 1920
[Poem is in the public domain in Canada and the United States]
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