Locked out of life the singing shadows creep,
Trailing old melodies of mournful sleep.
Slow bells of Rest they ring about the soul,
Ding-dong, ding-dong the muffled measures toll.
Love, I have heard them how they swing and sway
High in the turret-dreams of yesterday.
Oh, wind your arms about me closer still;
Hold me and fold me till the moonbeams thrill.
Heart, make no murmur as we kiss and cling.
Hush! hush! be still, and let our sad souls sing.
Perchance some shadow at the sound may yearn.
Yearn and remember and with tears return.
First published in The Bulletin, 13 May 1920
