TO BARBARA. 539 



Subtle sorcery there lies 

 In the glances of your eyes, 

 Calling forth, from out the vast 

 Vaults of the forgotten past, 

 Pictures dim and far away 

 From the full life of to-day, 

 Like the figures that we see 

 Wrought in ancient tapestry. 



This the vision comes to me : 

 Sheer rock rising from the sea, 

 Wind-riven, harsh, and vertical, 

 To a gray old castle wall ; 

 Waving palms upon its height, 

 At its feet the breakers white, 

 Chasing o'er an emerald bay, 

 Like a flock of swans that play ; 

 Tile-roofed houses of the town, 

 From the hills, slow-creeping down ; 

 Rocks and palms and castle wall, 

 Emerald seas that rise and fall, 

 Golden haze and glittering blue 

 What is all of this to you ? 



Only this, perchance it be, 

 Each has left its trace in thee ; 

 Only this, that Love is strong, 

 And the arm of Fate is long. 



Deeply hidden in your eyes, 

 Undeciphered histories, 

 Graven in the ages vast, 

 Lie there to be read at last : 

 Graven deep, they must be true ; 

 Shall I read them unto you ? 



Once a man, now faint and dim 

 With the centuries over him, 

 Wandered from an ancient town, 

 On its hills slow-creeping down, 

 O'er the ocean, bold and free, 

 Roved in careless errantry. 

 With Vizcaino had he fared, 

 And his strange adventures dared ; 

 Restless ever, drifting on, 

 Far as foot of man had gone ; 



