At Dawn and Dusk


Victor James Daley

WHEN trees in Spring
Are blossoming
    My lady wakes
From dreams whose light
Made dark days bright,
    For their sweet sakes.

Yet in her eyes
A shadow lies
    Of bygone mirth;
And still she seems
To walk in dreams,
    And not on earth.

Some men may hold
That hair of gold
    Is lovelier
Than darker sheen:
They have not seen
    My lady’s hair.

Her eyes are bright,
Her bosom white
    As the sea foam
On sharp rocks sprayed;
Her mouth is made
    Of honeycomb.

And whoso seeks
In her dusk cheeks
    May see Love’s sign—
A blush that glows
Like a red rose
    Beneath brown wine.

At Dawn and Dusk - Contents

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