The Pagan

Spilt from the golden brim of a risen moon
The yellow ribboned the stream:

Tossed from the flickering bowl of an evening star
The gold drops fashioned the dream:

Speechless the calm of a slumbrous drowse
Caressing the night in a flow:

And the pagan . . . aloft on the furthermost height
As a god . . .he saw it below.

—G.E.W.