And the feckless light of their golden eyes
    Shall forget the desire that made them wise;

    When the hands of the foam shall beckon and flee. 
    And the Kelpie riders ride for the sea;

    And the whip-poor-will the whole night long
    Repeat his litanies of song,

    Till morning whiten the world again,
    And the flowers revive on Bareau Fen,

    Over the acres of calm Rochelle
    Fresh by the stream of the crystal well.

NOONS OF POPPY

    Noons of poppy, noons of poppy,
    Scarlet leagues along the sea;
    Flaxen hair afloat in sunlight,
    Love, come down the world to me!

    There’s a Captain I must ship with,
    (Heart, that day be far from now!)
    Wears his dark command in silence
    With the sea-frost on his brow.

    Noons of poppy, noons of poppy,
    Purple shadows by the sea;
    How should love take thought to wonder
    What the destined port may be?

    Nay, if love have joy for shipmate
    For a night-watch or a year,
    Dawn will light o’er Lonely Haven,
    Heart to happy heart, as here.

    Noons of poppy, noons of poppy,
    Scarlet acres by the sea
    Burning to the blue above them;
    Love, the world is full for me.

LEGENDS OF LOST HAVEN

    There are legends of Lost Haven,
    Come, I know not whence, to me,
    When the wind is in the clover,
    When the sun is on the sea.

    There are rumors in the pine-tops,
    There are whispers in the grass;
    And the flocking crows at nightfall
    Bring home hints of things that pass

    Out upon the broad dike yonder,
    All day long beneath the sun,
    Where the tall ships cloud and settle
    Down the sea-curve, one by one.

    And the crickets in fine chorus—­
    Every slim and tiny reed—­
    Strive to chord the broken rhythmus
    Of the world, and half succeed.

    There are myriad traditions
    Treasured by the talking rain;
    And with memories the moonlight
    Walks the cold and silent plain.

    Where the river tells his hill-tales
    To the lone complaining bar,
    Where the midgets thread their dances
    To the yellow twilight star,

    Where the blossom bends to hearken
    To the bee with velvet bands,
    There are chronicles enciphered
    Of the yet uncharted lands.

    All the musical marauders
    Of the berry and the bloom
    Sing the lure of soul’s illusion
    Out of darkness, out of doom.

    But the sure and great evangel
    Comes when half alone I hear,
    At the rosy door of silence,
    Love, the lord of speech, draw near.

    Then for once across the threshold,
    Darkling spirit, thou art free,—­
    As thy hope is every ship makes
    Some lost haven of the sea.