Muriel Stuart

I AM one of the wind’s stories,

I am a fancy of the rain,

A memory of the high moon’s glories,

The hint the sunset had of pain.

They dreamed me as they dreamed all other—

Hawthorn and I, I and the grass;

With sister shade and phantom brother

Across their sleep I glide and pass.

Twilight is in my blood; my being

Mingles with trees and ferns and stones;

Thunder and stars my lips are freeing,

And there is sea-rack in my bones.

Those that have dreamed me shall out-wake me,

But I go hence with flowers and weeds;

I am no more to those who make me

Than other drifting fruit and seeds.

And though I love them, mourn to leave them—

Sea, earth and sunset, stars and streams—

My tears, my passing do not grieve them …

Other dreams have they, other dreams.