4 IN THE PINEWOODS For the winds of an Unknown Will are blowing out of the Vast, And the soul of the world grows one with the THE EYES OF THE BLIND THROUGH the wise books that trouble the world Ye seek but ye shall not find, For no scroll that was ever unfurled Can open the eyes of the blind.. The open-hearted Mystery Still slumbers among the hills, And her thoughts are the stars of the sky, But her dreams are daffodils. 6 THE EYES OF THE BLIND Her moods are the light of running streams That break into foam and pass, Where the sunset of her sorrow gleams The dew lies hoar on the grass. Her pity softens the twilight wind, Her hands that are cool with dew, And her love is the heavens blue. OCTOBER THE sleepless light of morning drives every cloud away, Shining on a garden space of blue and sunny hours, But the dreaming twilight holds the secret of the day, Forgotten by its sunshine and hidden from its flowers. The rainbow coloured robe of spring is delicate and dear, And bright with the unfolding of many eager wings, |