An Impression

The arching skies, the ancient wind
Soughing through immemorial trees;
The sense of all that lurks behind
The year's now tattered masonries,
Where the blithe birds once built their home
High in the air-sweet, leafy dome.

Then, the lone figure of a girl
Clear-limned against the buttressed hills;
Slim, beautiful, a tiny pearl
Set round with ruby light that fills
The all-illumined spaces where
No dark may creep nor shadow dare.

Not for an earldom would I break
The silence of yon dreaming maid;
I could not play her soul awake
With Love's most magic serenade;
Her thought holds secrets hid from me,
Deeper than mortal minstrelsy.