SEA SPRAY ^ SMOKE DRIFT 



Drones a murmur, faintly splashing, 

 'Tis the splash of Charon's oar. 



Lower yet, my own Briseis, 



Denser shadows veil the light ; 

 Hush, what is to be, to be is. 



Close my eyes and say good-night. 

 Lightly lay your red lips, kissing, 



On this cold mouth, while your thumbs 

 Lie on these cold eyelids pressing — 



Pallas ! thus thy soldier comes ! 



