rkness,
_Follow me, follow me, Mohawks, ye are shooting the edge of the world._

They struggled like snakes to return. Like straws they were whirled on
her track.
For the whole flood swooped to that edge where the unplumbed night dropt
black,
The whole flood dropt to a thunder in an unplumbed hell beneath,
And over the gulf of the thunder
A mountain of spray from the darkness
Rose and stood in the heavens, like a shrouded image of death.

She rushed like a star before them. The moon on her glorying shone.
_Teach me, O my lover_,--her cry flashed out and was gone.
A moment they battled behind her. They lashed with their paddles and
lunged;
Then the Mohawks, turning their faces
Like a blood-stained cloud to the darkness,
Over the edge of Niagara swept together and plunged.

_And the lights of a hundred cities are fed by the ancient power;
But a cry returns with the midnight; for they, too, have their hour.
Teach me, O my lover, as you taught me of love in a day,
--While the river of stars is rolling,
Rolling away to the darkness,--
Teach me of death, and for ever, and set my feet on the way!_

A KNIGHT OF OLD JAPAN

Make me a stave of song, the Master said,
On yonder cherry-bough, whose white and red
Hangs in the sunset over those green seas.
The young knight looked upon his untried blade,
Then shrugged his wings of gold and blue brocade:
_How should a warrior play with thoughts like these?_

Fresh from the battle, in that self-same hour,
A mail-clad warrior watched each delicate flower
Close in that cloud of beauty against the West.
Drinking the last deep light, he watched it long.
He raised his face as if to pray. _The strong_,
The Master whispered, _are the tenderest_.

BEYOND DEATH

I

In lonely bays
Where Love runs wild,
All among the flowering grasses,
Where light, light, light, as a sea-bird's wing
The chuckle of the child-god passes,
O, to awake, to shake away the night
And find you dreaming there,
On the other side of death, with the sea-wind blowing round you,
And the scent of the thyme in your hair.

II

Tho' beauty perish,
Perish like a flower,
And song be an idle breath,
Tho' heaven be a dream, and youth for but an hour,
And life much less than death,
And the Maker less than