s lB· /l y VIY
THE VoL. LI
F RICH 101TrGl!'J MESSENG R APRIL,
4-6
1925
No. 4
ECSTASY LOUISE
WILKINSON
My fingers, Like moonbeams Silver-cool and slender, Are threading the sombre denseness Weaving a dream to hide us, A mist to cover us deep In stillness .
of your hair,
And the shadow that moves behind your eyes, Wistfully, Breaks through the loneliness Stretched taut between, Beckons and touches with light The startled shadow in mine. The folds of silence draw closer about us And sway - beaten by hushed winds. They are our souls that move in trance, Peopling the dark Two slim radiances fleet ly flickering, Whirling, Swinging, Leaping, darting, Locked in a rhythm Vertiginous, wild Till Beauty comes, Lightly, And lays her finger on her lips.
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