From Two Skies

By George Sterling

Thou haunting loveliness and sweet despair!
    Thou art what music were, could music be
    A thing of form and tangibility!
Thou hast the morning hidden in. thy hair,
And gleam of honey-colored moons that stare
    In evanescent twilights o'er the sea.
    As sorrow is to song art thou to me—
A thing of dews and flame, too sadly fair.

Thou callest to me out of time and space,
    And shinest with a glory from afar,
        A light and lure from never-charted skies,
And I exult, nor falter from thy face:
    My spirit seems a newly fallen star
        That flames upon thine own before it dies.

Oakland.

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