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1879–1954

MY SAPPHIRE.

Erwin Clarkson Garrett

I have a sapphire rich and fair And soft as a velvet sky, When only the stars are shining low And the heavens hold a mystic glow

And a hushed world stands agaze to know The wonderful Whence and Why. I have a sapphire that I turn In the dark of somber days:

And the darting tongues of nickering blue Flash deep and rare in wondrous hue, Sharp as the lightning, pure as the dew, And true as m'lady' s gaze.

I have a sapphire that I hold Beneath the chandelier: And the phosphor of its azure gleam Sweeps clear as the depths of the mountain stream

Where the Sun-god hurls his molten beam In the morn of the golden year. I have a sapphire I adore — Of varying whims and moods —

Blue-black it lies with never a mark Across the dim unfathomed dark, Till there lifts the glow of a tiny spark — And again it sullen broods.

I have a sapphire that I bend ‘ Neath the light of burning rays: And the flames spread forth a fairy fire, Seething and writhing and leaping higher

Till they come to the land of my heart's desire, In a glittering, blinding blaze. I have a sapphire that I hold. When the goal seems far away:

When the lee shore churns in saffron spume. And the fluctuant ocean's plume on plume Bears down to a rock-ribbed hidden doom, And the sky is ashen gray.

I have a sapphire that I turn; And the clouds break, and the wine Of a glorious sun spreads east and west To where the Islands of the Blest

Raise verdant shores at my behest, And a golden world is mine. Oh Sapphire from a distant vale Where the white Himalayas tower:

Where the Kashmir lakes are royal blue, And passions strong and hearts are true, All these are met and blent in you, A princely heir and dower.

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MY SAPPHIRE. · Erwin Clarkson Garrett · Poetry Cove