Star and Spire.
A Spire in the still Night stood dreaming,
And away and above it afar —
Alone in its deep Heaven gleaming —
A white, a mysterious Star.
Was it Fate? Was it falsehood or madness —
Your eyes, and the lights, and the wine;
The mood of our mirth — and its sadness?
Your secret, my lady, and mine.
* * * *
Ah! suns which have burnt into ember
Had better die down in the West,
With a Star and a Spire to remember;
A kiss, and a clasp, and the rest.
Each day of my life am I learning
This sorrowful lesson by rote —
On Earth stand the Spires of our yearning:
The Stars of our dreams are remote.
E. J. Brady, The Earthen Floor, Grafton (N.S.W.): Grip Newspaper Co., 1902