Legends Of Lost Haven

There are legends of Lost Haven,     Come, I know not whence, to me,     When the wind is in the clover,     When the sun is on the sea.     There are rumors in the pine-tops,     There are whispers in the grass;     And the flocking crows at nightfall     Bring home hints of things that pass     Out upon the broad dike yonder,     All day long beneath the sun,     Where the tall ships cloud and settle     Down the sea-curve, one by one.     And the crickets in fine chorus--     Every slim and tiny reed--     Strive to chord the broken rhythmus     Of the world, and half succeed.     There are myriad traditions     Treasured by the talking rain;     And with memories the moonlight     Walks the cold and silent plain.     Where the river tells his hill-tales     To the lone complaining bar,     Where the midgets thread their dances     To the yellow twilight star,     Where the blossom bends to hearken     To the bee with velvet bands,     There are chronicles enciphered     Of the yet uncharted lands.     All the musical marauders     Of the berry and the bloom     Sing the lure of soul's illusion     Out of darkness, out of doom.     But the sure and great evangel     Comes when half alone I hear,     At the rosy door of silence,     Love, the lord of speech, draw near.     Then for once across the threshold,     Darkling spirit, thou art free,--     As thy hope is every ship makes     Some lost haven of the sea.