Smart Set_, _The Yale Review_, _Youth_. Thanks are also due to Messrs. Harcourt, Brace and Company for permission to reprint “Sea-Horizons,” first published in the anthology, _Enchanted Years_. CONTENTS PAGE _The Black Panther_ 3 _I. Dim Wisdoms_ NIGHT HAS ITS FEAR 7 THE SORROWFUL MASQUERADE 12 OCTOBER MOONLIGHT 13 THE FLESH AND THE DREAM 15 VAUDEVILLE 16 1914 18 THE BELOVÈD 19 PROUD DOOM 21 THE SECRET ONE 22 THE UNDISSUADABLE AUSTERITY 25 BLIND PLAYERS 26 TRAVAIL 28 THE POET TELLS OF HIS LOVE 29 THE BURIED DREAM 31 HAUNTED EARTH 32 LONG AGO 34 TCHAIKOVSKY: FIFTH SYMPHONY 35 MIRROR 36 PLAINT 38 ANDANTE 39 THE DEAR MYSTERY 42 IN THE DARK CITY 43 _II. Space and Solitude_ IMMENSITY 47 SEA-HORIZONS 48 OF DAY CAME NIGHT 51 PILGRIM 53 BY THE GRAY SEA 54 THE FISH-HAWK 55 DISDAINFUL BEAUTY 57 MY LONELY ONE 58 _III. The Lost Traveller’s Dream_ WILD THOUGHT 63 JOURNEY’S END 64 BELATED LOVE 65 A LEAVE-TAKING 66 BUT LOVE-- 72 ANNE 73 THE SILENCE 74 EXULTATION 75 SONG OF SONGS 77 SORROWFUL FREEDOM 78 STARLESS MORNING 79 PHANTOM 80 LEGEND 81 _IV. The Divine Fantasy_ 85 _The Lion-House_ 97 THE BLACK PANTHER There is a panther caged within my breast; But what his name, there is no breast shall know Save mine, nor what it is that drives him so, Backward and forward, in relentless quest-- That silent rage, baffled but unsuppressed, The soft pad of those stealthy feet that go Over my body’s prison to and fro, Trying the walls forever without rest. All day I feed him with my living heart; But when the night puts forth her dreams and stars, The inexorable Frenzy reawakes: His wrath is hurled upon the trembling bars, The eternal passion stretches me apart, And I lie silent--but my body shakes. I DIM WISDOMS NIGHT HAS ITS FEAR Night has its fear: As the slow dusk advances, and the day Fades out in fire along the starry way, The ancient doubt draws near. Vague shapes of dread-- Soft owl, or moth, and timid, twittering things-- Move through the growing dark; on furtive wings The bat flits overhead. And in the house The death-watch ticks, the dust of time is stirred With timorous footfalls, in the night is heard The gnawing of the mouse. Through the old room What phantoms throng, what shapes that to and fro Tremble, and lips that laughed here long ago-- Gone back into the gloom! A whip-poor-will Bleakly across the baleful country cries From a blurred mouth; and from the west replies Echo--and all is still. Now from her shell, Her body’s prison, with the ancient doubt And terror stricken, the scared soul looks out, Asking if all be well. Great kings have been, Poets, and mighty prophets--shapes have cried About the world, or moved in mournful pride; And are no longer seen. From many lands Their plaint was lifted; from how many a shore Sorrows have wailed, that are not any more! They sleep with folded hands. They have their day: Their cry is loud about the earth, who come To the one end; the singing lips grow dumb Always in the one way. Though they implore, Brief is the plea, inflexible the fate! Silence has the last word; and then--the great Silence, forevermore. Pondering these, The fretful spirit in bewilderment Quickens with a vague doubt, and, not content, Broods--and is ill at ease. Her being is Throned on so frail a pulse; such fleeting breath Bears up her dream across the gulf of death And the obscure abyss. Always she hears The hurtling...