THE POET RETURNS

by

Victor B. Neuburg

Published in the Smart Set

New York, New York, U.S.A.

June 1914

(page 102)

The starlight lends me raiment;

(How slowly old songs die!)

A dream I give in payment,

Of my dreams newborn and shy.

A moonbeam lends its burden;

(How slowly old songs fail!)

A dream I give as guerdon;

For all my dreams are pale.

So through the dark I wander;

(How sweet the old songs seem!)

All undisturbed I ponder;

All palely still I dream.

Beneath the stately beeches

(How sweet the old songs were!)

I mouth my silver speeches

To make my own heart stir.

Beside the curious rive

(How strange the old songs are!)

I glide to watch the shiver

On the water of a star.

Under the night's grave splendor

(How far the wise old songs!)

I murmur words as tender

As a lover's fancied wrongs.

The strange, strong songs I fashioned

(Those songs grown now so old!)

Seem vaguely fair and passioned,

Now my hot heart is cold.

The starlight lends me raiment;

My path a white moonbeam.

A song I give in payment,

For love I add a dream.