...At Night...

Radio Record, Volume IV, Issue 48, 12 June 1931, Page 48

...At Night...

Where the clear, swift rwer of day flows down Over the dim white weirs of dreams In the vast blue gulfs of the night to drown A garden, pale as an opal, dreams. Here, on the rim of the twilit world, The Wind-God walks when his wings ave furied, Walks alone with his shrill sweet pipes, Fluting clear as a mating bird, And magic flowers by his step are stwred, The moonflowers shimmer in mists of pearl, The dusk-flowers dream in a@ purple haze, Like a clear, pale jewel the dawn-flower sways, The flame-flowers quiver like golden fires, And the night-flowers tremble their jacinth spires, And in gusts the perfumes come and go As the Wind-God paces to and fro; By pools of silver the mist-flower gleams And in and out of the darkling trees Flit the mmtsty moon-pale wraiths of dreams, As here on the rim of the dreaming world The Wind-God walks when his wings are furled.

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