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1865–1914

OCCULT

Madison Julius Cawein

Unto the soul's companionship Of things that only seem to be, Earth points with magic fingertip And bids thee see

How Fancy keeps thee company. For oft at dawn hast not beheld A spirit of prismatic hue Blow wide the buds, which night has swelled?

And stain them through With heav'n' s ethereal gold and blue? While at her side another went With gleams of enigmatic white?

A spirit who distributes scent, To vale and height, In footsteps of the rosy light? And oft at dusk hast thou not seen

The star-fays bring their caravans Of dew, and glitter all the green, Night's shadow tans, From many starbeam sprinkling-cans?

Nor watched with these the elfins go Who tune faint instruments? whose sound Is that moon-music insects blow When all the ground

Sleeps, and the night is hushed around?

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OCCULT · Madison Julius Cawein · Poetry Cove